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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


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HOME TOPICS 



A BOOK OF 



PRACTICAL PAPERS ON HOUSE AND 
HOME MATTERS. 



WITH SUGGESTIONS AS TO THE CARE AND EDUCATION OF CHILDREN, 

HOME DECORATION AND AMUSEMENTS, WINDOW GARDENING, 

PRACTICAL FLORICULTURE, THE TREATMENT OF 

THE SICK, VACATIONS, ETC., ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED. 



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COMPILED AND ARRANGED BY 

SUSAN ANNA BROWN, 



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■ mJ.hM.llyJ~ 
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The century Co., NEW-YORK. 

SOLD ONLY BV SUBSCRIPTION, BY 

BROWN AND DERBY, NEW-YORK. 



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Copyright, 1881, by The Century Co. 



Press of Tkancis Hart & Co. N. Y. 



PREFACE, 



THE present volume is designed to be preeminently a useful 
book. There is no one writer whose single pen would 
be able to originate such a wealth of suggestion on topics of 
home life as may be found within these covers. Here are 
gathered together many of the brightest as well as many of 
the most helpful thoughts of a number of the best-known 
American writers, constituting a series of papers on domestic 
matters which, for variety and practical suggestiveness, it 
would be hard to match in the compass of one book. 

The sources from which all these hints, discussions, reflec- 
tions, and directions have been drawn are the successive issues 
of" Scribner's Monthly" (now "The Century Magazine") and 
" St. Nicholas " ; and in order to discover the various papers 
and paragraphs in their original setting, one would have to 
search diligently through the eleven years of the former mag- 
azine and the eight years of the latter. 

" Home Topics" will, it is believed, furnish instruction and 
amusement for the young as well as for the old of every family. 
It is hoped that it will be found a valuable friend and com- 
panion in all seasons of the year, in all parts of the country, 
and among "all conditions of men." 



CONTENTS, 



I. THE HOUSEHOLD. 

Page. 

Cheery People; '' H. H.;' i "He that Sweareth to 

His Own Hurt," 5 . . . .Men and Women ; /. G. Holland, 5 
.... Holidays for Middle- Age, 9 . . . . The Hospitality we should 
Like to See, 11.... Daily Charities, 14 .... " De Gustibus" ; 
Chas. Eastlake, 16 ... . Personal Economies; J. G. Holland, 
23 ... . How to Keep House on a Small Salary, 26. . . .City 
Shopping for Country Friends ; S. B. H., 28. . . . From Coun- 
try to City, 32. . . .Heroism Begins at Home, 35 .... " You 
Ought to Know," 37. .. .Talking of Our Friends, 38.... 
Speaking the Truth in Love, 39 ... . Table-Talk, 39 ... . 
Uncharitable Criticism, 41 .... Listen ! 42 ... , Something 
worth Thinking of, 44 ... . Village Society in Winter, 44 
.... Christmas Gifts, 46 .... In Memoriam, 47 .... " Oh, 
Keep My Memory Green ! " 50 ... . Old Clothes and Cold 
Victuals, 51 . . . .Making Presents, 52. . . .Our Old Books and 
Periodicals, 54. . . .The Pairing Season, 56. . . .On Founding 
a Home, 59. . . .The Slavery of To-day; S. B, H., 62. . . . 
Politeness to Servants, 68 .... " She," 70 ... . Maids and 
Mistresses, 74 I 



II. BOOKS AND EDUCATION. 

A Taste for Reading ; Olive Thome Miller, 76 ... . Two Ways 
of Teaching at Home, 81 .... The Cultivation of Literary 
Taste in Children; Mary Blake, 84. . . .Old Friends; Alice 
Wood, 89 ... . The Habit of Reading, 93 .... A Woman's 



VI CONTENTS. 

11. BOOKS AND EDUCATION — Continued. 

Page. 

Thoughts upon the Education of Women; S. B. H., g4. . . . 
Education in Europe; Z. Clarkson, 97.... Young Folks' 
Study-hour; Hannah Snowden, 102... The Open Book; 

6". B. //., 104 What Our Boys are Reading; W. G. 

Sumner, 105 ... . Hints on Education ; Mary Blake, 1 14. . . . 
A Family Journal, 117. . . .How to Keep a Journal; IV. S, 
Jerome, 119. . . .A Letter to Letter-writers ; Susan A. Brown, 
122. . . .Stationery, 127. . . .Private Correspondence, 129. .. . 
Answering Letters, 130.... Some Western School-masters j 
Edward Eggleston^ 131 7^ 



III. THE VACATIONS. 

How to Travel ; Susan A. Brown, 144 .... Hints for the Sum- 
mer Vacation, 149. . . .Camping Out, 150. , . .One Way to 
Spend the Summer in the Country; H. Snowden, 151 ... . 
An Agreeable Guest; Susan A. Brown, 161 .... How the 
Money was Made for her Summer's Journey, 166. . . . 
Suggestions to Ocean Travelers; W. H. Rideing, 169.... 
Ladies at Sea, 172.... How to Camp Out at the Beach; 
F, E. Clark, ly^- ■ • How to Entertain a Guest; Susan A. 
Brown, 180 144 



IV. HOME AMUSEMENTS AND WORK. 

Lawn Tennis; JV. H. Boardman, 188.... A Talk about 
Swimming; S. B. Hunt, 194. .. .Parlor Magic; Leo H. 
Grindon, 20T, . . . . A Salt-water Aquarium; A. F. Samuels, 
214. . . .Skate-sailing; Chas. L. Norton, 221 .. . .New Domino 
Games; Arlo Bates, 231 .... A Knotty Subject; Chas. L. 
Norton, 234 .... Amateur Theatricals, 241 .... The Sea- 
weed Album; Delta, 248 .... Illuminating Texts; Susan 
Coolidge, 253 188 



V. SICKNESS AND HEALTH. 

A Parable; " //. //.," 258 Nerves in the Household, 265 

. . . .Better than Medicine, 267. . . . Hints on the Use and 
Care of the Eyes; Swa7i M. Burnett, 268. ..Ounces of 



CONTENTS. Vil 

V. SICKNESS AND HEALTH— Continued. 

Page. 
Prevention, 282.... Sense in Shoes, 284.... Old Eyes and 

Spectacles; Swan M. Burnett, 286..,. How to Care for 

the Sick; S. A. Brown, 289... Short Hints Concerning 

Sickness, 295 .... Domestic Nursing, 296 .... Blunders in the 

Sick-room, 302 .... Sick-room Papers, 304 .... Relations of 

Insanity to Modem Civilization, 307 258 

VI. ABOUT THE YOUNG FOLKS. 

A Talk with Girls and their Mothers ; Washington Gladden, 
319. . . .Accomplishments, 333 .... The Boy who wants to 
be a Sailor; W. H. Rideing, 334. . . .Games of Children 
and Gambling of Men, 341 . . . .School Luncheons, 343. . . . 
School-girls' Meals, 347.... A Word to the Wise; Susan 
A, Brown, 348. . . .The Boy John ; S. C. Kendall, 349. . . . 
The Uses of Change, 358.... The Children's Hour, 360 

. . . .Some Popular Mistakes, 361 . . . .Shall we have a Society 
for the Prevention of Cruelty from Children ; M. Rebeque, 
364. . . Domestic Ethics, 368. . . .Frightening Children, 370 

.... Children and Money, 371 .. . .Other People's Birthdays; 
Mary Blake, 373 ... .Children's Nerves, 374. .. .Weaning 
the Baby; Catherine Owen, yjT . . . .Music and Drawing at 
Home, 381 .. . .Intelligent Charity in Children, 383. . . .The 
Beginner in Journalism; IV. H. Rideing, 384. . . .How to 
Become a Telegrapher, an Engraver, an Architect ; W. H, 
Rideing, 387 .... Elementary Instruction in the Mechanic 
Arts ; E. Atkinson, 392 3^9 

VII. FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 

Spinning and Weaving ; Mrs. Adeline D. T. Whitney, 401 
.... Helping Along; Louisa M. Alcott, 411 .. . Worth 
Your Weight in Gold; M. M. D., 419. . . Now, or Then? 
Gail Hamiltoti, 424. . . .Good-will; J. T. Trowbridge, 428 

. . . .The Dolls' Baby-show; B. M. B., 435 A Few of 

Our Habits; M. C. Holmes, 441 ... .Always Behindhand; 
M. D. K., 445 . . . .Grandmother ; Elsie G., 450. . . .Ready 
for Europe; Susan Coolidge, 452.... Why Nellie was not 
Popular; Constance Marion, 457. . . .Children who Work; 
Julia A . Holmes, 460 .... *' Festina Lente " ; Thomas Hughes, 
476 ... How to Save Time ; Susan A. Brown, 481 4^1 

/ 



viii CONTENTS. 

VIII. THE HOME. 

Page. 

Outdoor Parlors ; Ella Rodman Church, 485 .... The Piazza, 
488 ... . The Sacrificial Parlor, 488 . . . Red ; M, /^. , 49 1 . . . . 
About Floors and Rugs; S. B. H., 492... Best Parlors, 
496 .... Too Much Decoration ; H. , 500 .... Breakfast, Socially- 
Considered, 501.... Home Decorations; C. C. Harrison, 
503.... The Boys' Room, 506.... Wood Fires; Hannah 
S?iO'wden, 509. . . .Newspapers, Domestically Considered, 510 
. . . .Hints in House-cleaning Time, 512. . . .Odd Minutes of 
Waiting, 5 14.... A Lost Method of Expression, 514... 
The Poetry of the Table, 517. . . .Around the Dinner-table, 
518. . . .Homekeeping versus Housekeeping, 519.... The 
Penalty of Moving, 521 .... House and Home Build- 
ing, 522 .... Nursery Decoration and Hygiene; Consta7ice 
Gary Harrison, 524. . . . In Moving-Times, 529. . . .Servants' 
Rooms and Quarters; Constance Cary Harrison, 532 
The Expression of Rooms ; " H. H.," 533 Window- 
Boxes, 540. . . . A Fernery, 542 . . . .Flowers in Winter ; S. C, 
542. . . Window-Gardening, 546. . . .Don't Give up the Gar- 
den ! 547 . . . .Fall Work in the Rose-Garden ; M. S. 5., 550 

Roses, 551 A Plant-Stand, 553 A Miniature 

Fernery, 554 . . .Bring Flowers, 555 . . .Practical Floricult- 
ure ; Peter Henderson, 557 48 5 



LIST OF AUTHORS. 



Alcott, Louisa M. Helping Along, 411. 

Atkinson, E. Elementary Instruction in the Mechanic 
Arts, 392. 

Bates, Arlo. New Domino Games, 231. 

Blake, Mary. Cultivation of Literary Taste in Children, 
84; Hints on Education, 114; Other People's Birth- 
days, 373. 

BOARDMAN, W. H. Lawn Tennis, 188. 

Brown, Susan A. Letter to Letter- writers, 122; How to 
Travel, 144; An Agreeable Guest, 161 ; How to Enter- 
tain a Guest, 180; How to Care for the Sick, 289; A 
Word to the Wise, 348; How to Save Time, 481. 

Burnett, Swan M. Hints on the Use and Care of the 
Eyes, 268 ; Old Eyes and Spectacles, 286. 

Church, Ella Rodman. Outdoor Parlors, 485. 

Clark, F. E. How to Camp Out at the Beach, 175. 

Clarkson, L. Education in Europe, 97. 

COOLIDGE, Susan. Illuminating Texts, 253; Ready for 
Europe, 452. 



X LIST OF AUTHORS. 

Delta. The Sea-weed Album, 248. 

Dodge, Mary Mapes. Worth Your Weight in Gold, 419. 

Eastlake, Charles. "De Gustibus," 16. 

Eggleston, Edward. Some Western School-masters, 131. 

Gladden, Washington. A Talk with Girls and their 
Mothers, 319. 

Grindon, Leo H. Parlor Magic, 203. 

Hamilton, Gail. Now, or Then ? 424. 

Harrison, Constance Gary. Home Decorations, 503; 
Nursery Decoration and Hygiene, 524; Servants* 
Rooms and Quarters, 532. 

Henderson, Peter. Practical Floriculture, 557. 

Herrick, Mrs. S. B. City Shopping for Country Friends, 28 ; 
The Slavery of To-day, 62 ; A Woman's Thoughts upon 
the Education of Women, 94; The Open Book, 104; 
About Floors and Rugs, 492. 

"H. H." Cheery People, i ; A Parable, 258; The Expres- 
sion of Rooms, 533. 

Holland, J. G. Men and Women, 5 ; Personal Econo- 
mies, 23. 

Holmes, Julia A. Children who Work, 460. 

Holmes, M. C. A Few of Our Habits, 441. 

Hughes, Thomas. " Festina Lente," 476. 

Hunt, S. B. A Talk about Swimming, 194. 

Jerome, W. S. How to Keep a Journal, 119. 

Kendall, S. C. The Boy John, 349. 

Marion, Constance. Why Nellie was not Popular, 457. 



LIST OF AUTHORS. XI 

Miller, Olive Thorne. A Taste for Reading, ^6. 

Norton, Chas. L. Skate-sailing, 221; A Knotty Sub- 
ject, 234. 

Owen, Catherine. Weaning the Baby, 377. 

R^BEQUE, M. Shall we have a Society for the Prevention of 
Cruelty from Children ? 364. 

RiDEiNG, W. H. Suggestions to Ocean Travelers, 169 ; The- 
Boy who wants to be a Sailor, 334 ; The Beginner in 
Journalism, 384; How to Become a Telegrapher, an 
Engraver, an Architect, 387. 

Samuels, A. F. How to Make and Stock a Salt-water 
Aquarium, 214. 

Snowden, Hannah. Young Folks' Study-hour, 102 ; One 
Way to Spend the Summer in the Country, 151; Wood- 
Fires, 509. 

Sumner, W. G. What Our Boys are Reading, 105. 

Trowbridge, J. T. Good-will, 428. 

Whitney, Mrs. A. D. T. Spinning and Weaving, 401. 

Wood, Alice. Old Friends, 89. 



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LIST OF FULL- PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 



I. "Home, Sweet Home." The Birthplace of John 
Howard Payne. 

Drawn by F. HOPKINSON SMITH. 
Engraved by F. S. KING. 

II. Helping Mother. 7-. /^ 

Engraved by E. Heinemann, from 
Painting by Jan Verhas. 

III. " When you 're Writing or Reading or Sew- k' 

i <i 
ing, it 's Right to Sit, if You Can, with 

YOUR Back to the Light." 

Drawn by Mrs. JESSIE CURTiS SHEPHERD. 
Engraved by J. L. Langridge. 

IV. Tell Us a Story About It. 

Drawn by F. DiELMAN. 
Engraved by James Tynan. 

V. The Old School-house. 

Drawn by WiLLlAM L. Lathrop. 
Engraved by H. E. Babcock. 



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XIV 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



VI. A View which City Children would Remem- 



IX. 



XI. 



XII. 



XIII. 



XIV. 



XV. 



BER. 



Drawn by Thomas Moran. 
Engraved by JAMES MiLLER. 

VII. By the Sea. 

Drawn by F. H. LUNGREN. 
Engraved by GEORGE P. Bartle. 

VIII. A Game of Lawn Tennis. 



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Drawn by W. Taber. 
Engraved by W. J. Dana. 

One of the Girls. 

Drawn by E. L. DURAND. 
Engraved by E. R. TiCHENOR. 

Our Master. 

Drawn by Mrs. Addie Ledyard Ferris. 
Engraved by R. A. MULLER. 

Longing for Change. 

Drawn by Mrs. Mary Hallock Foote. 
Engraved by John Hellawell. 

How Johnny Amused the Baby. 

Drawn by H. R. POORE. 
Engraved by Charles Cullen. 

A Tired Mother. 

Drawn by W. J. LOCKHART. 
Engraved by Nathan Brown. 

" Looking in the Glass Spoils your Com- 
plexion." 






; 



3lJ 



^r^ 



f// 



Drawn by Mrs. Mary Hallock Foote. 
Engraved by John Hellawell. 



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" The Children Stood in Line, Waiting their 
Turns." 

Drawn by Mrs. JESSIE CuRTiS SHEPHERD. 
Engraved by Photo-Engraving Co. 



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ILLUSTRATIONS. 
OR 



Bell-tower, 



XIX. 



XV 

IN 



XVI. Giotto's Campanile 
Florence. 

Drawn by R. Sayer. 
Engraved by S. S. KiLBURN. 

XVII. The Piazza. 

Drawn by R. SWAiN GiFFORD. 
Engraved by Henry Wolf. 

XVIII. The Open Fire. 

Drawn by Miss C. A. NORTHAM. 
Engraved by GEORGE P. Bartle. 

A Group of Ferns. 

Engraved by Felix Le Blanc from photograph. 



XX. Layering in the Air, and Layering in the 
Soil. 

Drawn by Roger Riordan. 
Engraved by J. C. COLLINS. 



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^se 



fOcj 



fh. 



HOME TOPICS 



PART I. THE HOUSEHOLD, 



CHEERY PEOPLE. 

THERE is but one thing like them — that is sunshine. It 
is the fashion to state the comparison the other end fore- 
most — i. e., to flatter the cheery people by comparing them 
to the sun. I think it is the best way of praising the sunshine, 
to say that it is almost as bright and inspiring as the presence 
of cheery people. 

That the cheery people are brighter and better even than 
sunshine is very easily proved ; for who has not seen a cheery 
person make a room and a day bright in spite of the sun's not 
shining at all — in spite of clouds and rain and cold all doing 
their very best to make it dismal ? Therefore, I say, the fair 
way is to compare the sun to cheery people, and not cheery 
people to the sun. However, whichever way we state the 
comparison, it is a true and good one ; and neither the cheery 
people nor the sun need take offense. In fact, I believe they 
will always be such good friends, and work so steadily 
together for the same ends, that there is no danger of cither's 
grudging the other the credit of what has been done. The 



2 HOME TOPICS. 

more you think of it, the more you see how wonderfully 
alike the two are in their operation on the world. The sun 
on the fields makes things grow — fruits and flowers and 
grains ; the cheery person in the house makes everybody 
do his best — makes the one who can sing feel like singing, 
and the one who has an ugly, hard job of work to do, feel 
like shouldering it bravely and having it over with. And 
the music and mirth and work in the house, are they not 
like the flowers and fruits and grains in the field ? 

The sun makes everybody glad. Even the animals run and 
leap and seem more joyous when it shines out; and no human 
being can be so cross-grained, or so ill, that he does not brighten 
up a little when a great, broad, warm sunbeam streams over 
him and plays on his face. It is just so with a cheery person. 
His simple presence makes even animals happier. Dogs know 
the difference between him and a surly man. When he pats 
them on the head and speaks to them, they jump and gambol 
about him just as they do in the sunshine. And when he 
comes into the room where people are ill, or out of sorts, or 
dull and moping, they brighten up, spite of themselves, just 
as they do when a sudden sunbeam pours in — only more so; 
for we often see people so ill they do not care whether the sun 
shines or not, or so cross that they do not even see whether 
the sun shines or not. But I have never yet seen anybody so 
cross or so ill that the voice and face of the cheery person 
would not make them brighten up a little. 

If there were only a sure and certain recipe for making a 
cheery person, how glad we would all be to try it ! How 
thankful we would all be to do good like sunshine ! To cheer 
everybody up, and help everybody along! — to have every- 
body's face brighten the minute we came in sight ! Why, it 
seems to me that there cannot be in this life any pleasure half 
so great as this would be. If we looked at life only from a 
selfish point of view, it would be worth while to be a cheery 
person, merely because it would be such a satisfaction to have 
everybody so glad to live with us, to sec us, even to meet us 
on the street. 



CHEERY PEOPLE. 3 

People who have done things which have made them 
famous, such as winning great battles or filling high offices, 
often have what are called ''ovations." Hundreds of people 
get together and make a procession, perhaps, or go into a great 
hall and make speeches, all to show that they recognize what 
the great man has done. After he is dead, they build a stone 
monument to him, perhaps, and celebrate his birthday for a 
few years. Men work very hard, sometimes, for a whole life- 
time to earn a few things of this sort. But how much greater 
a thing it would be for a man to have every man, woman, and 
child in his own town know and love his face because it was 
full of kindly good cheer ! Such a man has a perpetual " ova- 
tion," year in and year out, whenever he walks on the street, 
whenever he enters a friend's house. 

" I jist likes to let her in at the door," said an Irish servant 
one day, of a woman I know, whose face was always cheery 
and bright; " the face of her does one good, shure !" 

I said if there were only a recipe — a sure and certain 
recipe — for making a cheery person, we would all be glad to 
try it. There is no such recipe, and perhaps if there were, it 
is not quite certain that we would all try it. It would take 
time and trouble. Cheeriness cannot be taught, like writing, 
*' in twenty lessons" ; nor analyzed and classified and set forth 
in a manual, such as " The Art of Polite Conversation," or 
^' Etiquette Made Easy for Ladies and Gentlemen." It lies so 
deep that no surface rules of behavior, no description ever so 
minute of what it is or is not, does or does not do, can ever 
enable a person to "take it up" and " master" it, like a trade 
or a study. I believe that it is, in the outset, a good gift from 
God at one's birth, very much dependent on one's body, and 
a thing to be more profoundly grateful for than all that genius 
ever inspired, or talent ever accomplished. This is natural, 
spontaneous, inevitable cheeriness. This, if we were not born 
with it, we cannot have. But next best to this is deliberate, 
intended, and persistent cheeriness, which we can create, can 
cultivate, and can so foster and cherish, that after a few years 
the world will never suspect that it was not a hereditary gift 



4 HOME TOPICS. 

handed down to us from generations. To do this we have only 
to watch the cheeriest people we know, and follow their 
example. We shall see, first, that the cheery person never 
minds — or if he minds, never says a word about — small 
worries, vexations, perplexities. Second, that he is brimful of 
sympathy in other people's gladness ; he is heartily, genuinely 
glad of every bit of good luck or joy which comes to other 
people. Thirdly, he has a keen sense of humor, and never 
lets any droll thing escape him; he thinks it worth while to 
laugh, and to make everybody about him laugh, at every amus- 
ing thing; no matter how small, he has his laugh, and a good 
hearty laugh, too, and tries to make everybody share it. 
Patience, sympathy, and humor — these are the three most 
manifest traits in the cheery person. But there is something 
else, which is more an emotion than a trait, more a state of 
feeling than a quahty of mind. This is lovingness. This is 
the secret, so far as there is a secret; this is the real point of 
difference between the mirth of the witty and sarcastic person, 
which does us no good, and the mirth of the cheery person, 
which ** doeth good like a medicine." 

Somebody once asked a great painter, whose pictures were 
remarkable for their exquisite and beautiful coloring: **Pray 
Mr. , how do you mix your colors?" 

"With brains, madam — with brains," growled the painter. 
His ill-nature spoke a truth. All men had or might have the 
colors he used ; but no man produced the colors he produced. 

So I would say of cheeriness. Patience, sympathy, and 
humor are the colors ; but patience may be mere doggedness 
and reticence, sympathy may be wordy and shallow and selfish, 
and humor may be only a sharp perception of the ridiculous. 
Only when they are mixed with love — love, three times love 
— do we have the true good cheer of genuine cheery people. 



MEN AND WOMEN. 5 

''HE THAT SWEARETH TO HIS OWN HURT 
AND CHANGETH NOTr 

WE were talking about it, very solemnly, the other night, 
the minister and I, and this is the little sermon he 
preached : 

The trouble lies back of all theories, all talk of reform and 
liberty and law and what not. The advocacy of easy divorce, 
or whatever form this horror of the day assumes, is only possi- 
ble when one's apprehension of life is false from the beginning. 
They talk about one's life being blasted by an uncongenial 
union ; of failing thus to accomplish the purposes of one's life ; 
of an empty existence : — as if a life teeming with duty could 
be, by any means, called vacant, — as if a career could be 
blasted by infelicity, or an existence fail of its true purposes 
because of the burden laid upon it ! Who shall limit the pur- 
poses of his existence ! Who shall flee, a coward, from the 
cross laid upon him, and declare that he does well ! Surely 
not he who believes that giving is gaining ; that only he finds 
his life who loses it. 

The modern world is coming back to the first principles in 
the means of attack, the art of defense, in the building of ships, 
bolts, earth- works, fish-shaped hulls, — and in many other 
things; — the newest is the oldest. So, in religion, the "reform- 
ers " are preaching the ancient worship of that goddess of self 
and sense ; and the unselfish Christ, as of old, puts these false 
prophets to shame. 



MEN AND WOMEN. 



AMONG all the burdens that woman is called upon to bear, 
there is none that can be made so galling to her as the 
burden of dependence. Man is usually, in the life of the family, 
the bread-winner. However much he may be helped by woman 



6 * HOME TOPICS. 

in the economies of home life, he is usually the one who earns 
and carries the money on which the family subsists. Whatever 
money the woman wants comes to her from his hands, as a 
rule. Now, this money can be given into her hands in such a 
way that she can not only preserve her self-respect, but rejoice 
in her dependence ; or it can be given to her in such a way that 
she will feel like a dog when she asks for it and when she 
receives it — in such a way that she will curse her dependence, 
and mourn over all the shame and humiliation it brings to her. 
We are sorry to believe that there are multitudes of wives 
and daughters and sisters, who wear fine clothing and who fare 
sumptuously every day, who would prefer earning the money 
they spend to receiving it from the ungracious and inconsider- 
ate hands upon which they depend. 

If we had entitled this article ** A Study of Husbands," it 
would have led us more directly, perhaps, to our main purpose; 
but the truth is that what we have to say has to do with 
dependent women in all the relations of life. It is natural for 
woman, as it is for man, to desire to spend money in her own 
way — to be free to choose, and free to economize, and free to 
spend whatever may be spent upon herself or her wardrobe. It 
is a delightful privilege to be free, and to have one's will with 
whatever expenditures may be made for one's own conveniences 
or necessities. A man who will interfere with this freedom, and 
who will deny this privilege to those who depend upon him, is 
either thoughtless or brutal. We know — and women all know 
— men who are' very generous toward their dependents, but 
who insist on reserving to themselves the pleasure of purchas- 
ing whatever the women of their households may want, and 
then handing it over to them in the form of presents. The 
women are loaded with nice dresses and jewelry, and these are 
bestowed in the same way in which a Turk lavishes his favors 
upon the slaves of his harem. Now, it is undoubtedly very 
gratifying to these men to exercise their taste upon the necessi- 
ties and fineries of their dependent women, and to feast them- 
selves upon the surprises and the thanks of those receiving 
their favors ; but it is a superlatively selfish performance. If 



MEN AND WOMEN. 7 

these women could only have had in their hands the money 
which these gifts cost, they would have spent it better, and 
they would have gratified their own tastes. A man may be 
generous enough to give to a woman the dresses and orna- 
ments she wears, who is very far from being generous enough 
to give her money, that she may freely purchase what she 
wants, and have the great delight of choosing. 

This is one side — not a very repulsive one — of man's selfish- 
ness in his dealings with women ; but there is another side that 
is disgusting to contemplate. There are great multitudes of 
faithful wives, obedient daughters, and ''left over" sisters, to 
whom there is never given a willing penny. The brute who 
occupies the head of the family never gives a dollar to the 
women dependent upon him without making them feel the 
yoke of their dependence, and tempting them to curse their 
lot, with all its terrible humiliations. Heaven pity the poor 
women who may be dependent upon him — women who never 
ask him for money when they can avoid it, and never get 
it until they have been made to feel as meanly humble as if 
they had robbed a hen-roost! 

There is but one manly way in treating this relation of 
dependent women. If a man recognizes a woman as a depend- 
ent, — and he must do so, so far, at least, as his wife and 
daughters are concerned, — he acknowledges certain duties 
which he owes to them. His duty is to support them, and, so 
far as he can do it, to make them happy. He certainly cannot 
make them happy if, in all his treatment of them, he reminds 
them of their dependence upon him. We know of no better 
form into which he can put the recognition of his duty than 
that of an allowance, freely and promptly paid whenever it 
may be called for. If a man acknowledges to himself that he 
owes the duty of support to the women variously related to 
him in his household, let him generously determine how much 
money he has to spend upon each, and tell her just how much 
she is at liberty to call upon him for, per annum. Then it 
stands in the relation of a debt to the woman, which she is at 
liberty to call for and to spend according to her own judgment. 



8 HOME TOPICS. 

We have watched the working of this plan, and it works well. 
We have watched the working of other plans, and they do not 
work well. We have watched, for instance, the working of the 
plan of the generous husband and father, who says : " Come to 
me for what you want, whenever you want it. I don't wish to 
limit you. Some years you will want more, and some less." 
This seems very generous ; but, in truth, these women prefer 
to know about what the man thinks they ought to spend, or 
about what he regards as the amount he can afford to have 
them spend. Having gained this knowledge by a voluntarily 
proffered allowance, they immediately adapt their expenditures 
to their means, and are perfectly content. It is a comfort to a 
dependent woman to look upon a definite sum as her own — as 
one that has been set aside for her exclusive use and behoof 

A great multitude of the discomforts that attach to a 
dependent woman's lot arise from the obtuseness and thought- 
lessness of the men upon whom they depend. There are some 
men so coarsely made that they cannot appreciate a woman's 
sensitiveness in asking for money. They honestly intend to do 
their duty — even to deal generously — by the women depend- 
ent upon them, but they cannot understand why a woman 
should object to come to them for what they choose to give 
her. If they will ask their wives to tell them frankly how 
they can improve their position, these wives will answer that 
they can do it by putting into their hands, or placing within 
their call, all the money per annum which they think they can 
afford to allow them, and not compel them to appeal to their 
husbands as suppliants for money whenever they may need a 
dollar or the quarter of one. 

The absolutely brutal husband and father will hardly read 
this article, but wo recall instances of cruelty and insult toward 
dependent women that would make any true man indignant in 
every fiber. A true woman may legitimately rejoice in her 
dependence upon a true man, because he will never make her 
feel it in any way ; but a brute of a husband can make a true 
woman feel her humiliation as a dependent a hundred times a 
day, until her dependence is mourned over as an unmitigated 
curse. 



HOLIDAYS FOR MIDDLE-AGE. 9 

HOLIDAYS FOR MIDDLE-AGE. 

WHEN the fires are beginning to burn on library and 
parlor hearths in the evenings, and the curtains to be 
drawn close, and the most devout lover of Nature gives up the 
stroll in shady lanes, or the row on the moonlit river, and 
comes in-doors for the winter, it is worth while to consider 
what is to be done in-doors. The work is ready for everybody 
who chooses to do it ; but the relaxation, the rest, the stimu- 
lant, which is to fit us for the work — what is that to be? For 
fashionable classes, this matter of amusement is ruled in almost 
as inflexible grooves as drudgery for the poor : for men or 
young people, too, it adjusts itself naturally. The father of a 
family has his clubs, his share in the political or church meet- 
ing, or, at least, his quiet newspaper, cigar, and slippers, at 
home — precisely the drowsy reaction he needs after the friction 
of the busy day. The boys and girls have their concerts, their 
lectures, the thousand devices of '' sociables," " accidentals," 
etc., by which they contrive to flock together, to chirp like 
young birds in May, and, perhaps, to mate like them. But the 
wives and mothers, the great aggregate of women no longer 
young — what is to be their tonic ? They certainly need a 
tonic. The American mother of a family is the real maid of 
all work in it, and the more faithful and intelligent she is, the 
more she usually tries to deserve the name. She may work 
with her hands or not (in the large majority of cases, she does 
work with her hands), but it is she who, in any case, oversees 
and gives life to a dozen different interests. Her husband's 
business, the boys' education, the girls' standing in society, the 
babv's teething-, the sewing; and housework for them all, are 
all processes which she urges on and which rasp and fret daily 
and hourly on her brain — a very dull, unskilled brain, too 
often, but almost always quite willing to wear itself out for 
those she loves. Whether it would be nobler or more politic 
in her to shirk this work, — husband, babies, and house, — and 
develop her latent talents as physician, artist, or saleswoman, 
is not the question with us just now. A few women have 



lO HOME TOPICS. 

done this. In the cities, too, money can remove much of the 
responsibiHty from the mistress of a household ; but the great 
aggregate of wives and mothers in this country are domestic 
women who ask nothing better of fate than that whatever 
strength they have of body and mind shall be drained for their 
husbands and children. Now this spirit of martyrdom is a very 
good thing — when it is necessary. For our part, we can see 
no necessity for it here. We are told that the women's wards 
in the insane asylums in New England are filled with middle- 
aged wives, mothers driven there by overwork and anxiety ; 
through the rest of the country the popular type of the woman 
of forty is neither fat nor fair, but a sallow, anxious-eyed 
creature, with teeth and hair furnished by the shops, and a 
liver and nerves which long ago took her work, temper, and 
we had almost said reUgion, out of her control. This rapid 
decay of our women may be owing partly to cHmatic influence, 
but it is much more due to the wear and tear of their mother- 
hood, and anxiety to push their children forward, added to the 
incessant petty rasping of inefficient domestic service. 

A man's work may be heavier, but is single — it wears 
on him on one side only ; he has his hours sacred to 
business, to give to his brief, his sermon, his shop ; there is 
no drain on the rest of his faculties or time. His wife has 
no hour sacred to this or to that; he brings his trouble to her, 
and it is her duty to comprehend and aid him, while her brain 
is devising how to keep her boy Tom away from the com- 
panions who brought him home drunk last night ; how to give 
Jenny another year of music lessons ; how to contrive a cloak 
for the baby out of her old merino ; the burning meat in the 
kitchen all the while ** setting her nerves in a quiver." She has 
not a power of mind, a skill of body, which her daily life does 
not draw upon. Her husband comes and goes to his office ; 
the outdoor air, the stir, the change of ideas, the passing word 
for this man or that, unconsciously refresh and lift him from 
the cankering care of the work. She has the parlor, the dining- 
room, the kitchen, to shut her into it, day after day, year after 
year. Women, without a single actual grief in the world, grow 



THE HOSPITALITY WE SHOULD LIKE TO SEE. II 

morbid and ill-tempered, simply from living in-doors, and 
resort to prayer to conquer their crossness, when they only 
need a walk of a couple of miles, or some wholesome amuse- 
ment. It is a natural craving for this necessity — amusement — 
which drives them to the tea-parties and sewing-circles which 
men ridicule as absurd and tedious. 

There is no reason why our women, who are notably 
rational and shrewd in the conduct of the working part of 
life, should cut themselves off thus irrationally from the neces- 
sary relaxation, or make it either costly or tedious. Let every 
mother of a family resolve not to put off her holidays until old 
age, but to take them all along the way, and to bring a good 
share of them into this winter. Let her give no ball, no musi- 
cal evenings, no hot, perspiring tea-parties, but manage to have 
her table always prettily served and comfortably provided, 
and her welcome ready for any friend who may come to it ; let 
her set apart an evening, if possible, when her rooms shall be 
open to any pleasant friend who will visit her ; the refresh- 
ment to be of the simplest kind ; and, above all, if the table 
chance not to be well served, or the friends are not agreeable, 
let her take the mishap as a jest, and meet all difficulties with 
an easy good-humor. It is not necessary to take every bull 
of trouble by the horns ; if we welcome and nod to them as 
to cheerful acquaintances, they will usually trot by on the other 
side of the road. 

Let her take our prescription for the winter, and our word 
for it the spring will find fresher roses in her cheeks and fewer 
wrinkles in her husband's forehead. 



THE HOSPITALITY WE SHOULD LIKE TO SEE, 

" T^O you ever thoroughly enjoy receiving company?" said 

LJ a lady to us not long ago. '' For my part, I am so 

occupied with the fear that my guests will not be sufficiently 

entertained that I have no time to enjoy them." Most Amer- 



12 HOME TOPICS. 

ican housekeepers will confess to something of this feeling. 
Even in our best-appointed households, there is not that absence 
of care in the deportment of the lady of the house which is seen 
in French or English drawing-rooms. Her thoughts cannot 
help wandering to the kitchen, even in the midst of the most 
animated conversation. She knows full well that after all those 
endeavors which have made her somewhat too weary to be 
quite at her best in looks or manner, there may be a failure in 
serving the repast. It is curious to see what a different woman 
she is after supper, if all has gone well. For the time she is 
safe, and exuberant with a sense of relief 

When our guests are staying with us for a day or a week, 
matters are somewhat better, because so much is not attempted ; 
but still there is often an unnaturalness and constraint which 
makes itself felt, even through the most scrupulous politeness. 
Much of this is no doubt owing to our unsatisfactory and pre- 
carious domestic service. Arthur Hugh Clough said : " The 
only way to live comfortably in America is to live rudely and 
simply ; " and while we should not hke to agree to his statement 
seriously, there are moments of despair, it must be acknowl- 
edged, in which we feel the force of it. But there is a deeper 
reason than this for our discomfort, and happily it is one 
which it lies in our power to remedy. Somehow or other, the 
idea has become chronic with us that we must entertain our 
visitors according to their style of living rather than our own. 
If a friend comes who has no larger a menage than we, it is all 
very well ; we make no special effort, and are thoroughly and 
simply hospitable. But let a distinguished foreigner or an 
'' American prince " visit us, and everything is changed. We 
have an indistinct idea of what he is accustomed to at home, 
and nothing short of that will content us. We put ourselves 
to torture to devise how to entertain him worthily, forgetting 
that what is unusual is always obviously so, and that he will 
detect the thin veneering of style, and either pity or sneer at 
us, according to his nature. 

There is with us Americans an inborn dislike to be sur- 
passed ; it is at once our strength and our weakness ; giving us 



THE HOSPITALITY WE SHOULD LIKE TO SEE. 1 3 

a stimulus to endeavor in great things, and causing a belittling 
anxiety in small ones. Far better in family affairs is French 
simplicity, that gives its best, whether poor or otherwise, with- 
out shame or ostentation ; that makes no guest uncomfortable 
by a suggestion of unusual expense or fatigue. If we could 
only understand it, we should feel that what our guests desire, 
if they are right-minded persons, is a glimpse of our real life : 
they come to us to know us better — not to have a repetition of 
their home experiences. True hospitality makes as little differ- 
ence as possible for the stranger or the friend ; it infolds each 
at once in its warm atmosphere ; and if he be a guest worth 
entertaining, he will prefer a thousand times such a home-wel- 
come to the display which has no heart in it. Especially with 
the foreigners who come to our shores is this true. They are 
away from their homes and families ; they tire of receptions 
and state dinners ; and the kindest thing we can do for them is 
occasionally to vary the programme by a quiet, friendly chat 
at the family fireside. And for all whom we entertain, that 
which we have decided to be right and proper for us in private 
should be the measure of our public doings. Consistency in 
this particular would relieve many a guest as well as many an 
entertainer. '* I pray you, O excellent wife," says Emerson, 
*' not to cumber yourself and me to get a rich dinner for this man 
or this woman who has alighted at our gate, nor a bed-chamber 
made ready at too great a cost. These things, if they are 
curious in, they can get for a dollar at any village. But let 
this stranger, if he will, in your looks, in your accent and 
behavior, read your heart and earnestness, your thought and 
will, which he cannot buy at any price, in any village or city, 
and which he may well travel fifty miles, and dine sparely and 
sleep hard, in order to behold. Certainly let the board be 
spread, and let the bed be dressed for the traveler ; but let not 
the emphasis of hospitality lie in these things ^ 



14 HOME TOPICS. 

DAILY CHARITIES. 

THERE is a queer, one-sided notion of charity which a very 
large number of people, especially religious, conscientious 
women of small means, are apt to adopt, and to carry out 
rigidly in their daily domestic lives. It is, that duty requires 
them to save money in every legitimate way, and then give a 
certain amount to the church or to the poor. A certain little 
woman that we know inexorably sets aside a tenth of her small 
income for charity, — a most admirable resolve, as everybody 
will acknowledge. But, in order to increase this tithe, she lays 
burdens on herself, her husband, and her servants, hard to 
bear. Diet in her system is reduced to its plainest and least 
tempting conditions ; economy is brought to bear on the qual- 
ity of the meat, its seasoning — the very coal, and the time 
required for its preparation. The boys sit down day after day 
the year round to the bare, uninviting table with its coarse cloth 
and meager dishes of oatmeal porridge, and stewed apples, or 
chops and potatoes, which they know have been counted before 
they were boiled. Their mother wonders why their appetites 
flag, and why her dinner-table is never the pleasant, jolly place 
of meeting which the boys declare their Aunt Rousby's to be. 
She "■ will not think so ill of her sons," she declares, '' as to 
believe that their tempers would be improved, or their love for 
their mother quickened, by occasional gratification of their 
stomachs," or, as she puts it, '' their carnal appetites." But the 
fact remains that the Rousby boys are rosy and happy, and as 
long as they live will remember mother's custards or chicken-pie 
as a way in which she showed her love for them, while their cous- 
ins know and care nothing about their mother's hours of prayer 
and wakefulness on their behalf This charitable woman, too, 
wears the coarsest and ugliest costumes for the sake of economy 
and self-mortification, and yet is miserable because her husband 
has long ago ceased to pay her lover-like compliments, and so 
often notices Jane Rousby's rosy cheeks and pretty breakfast- 
caps. In a word, she makes her home bare, niggardly, unin- 
viting to her husband and sons, and drives them elsewhere for 



DAILY CHARITIES. 1 5 

amusement and comfort. She is mean to the very outer edge 
of honesty in her deaHngs with butcher, milkman, and baker. 
She hires her servants at the lowest wages, and takes advantage 
of the hard times to bring down the washerwoman's pay per 
dozen to starvation rates. She has traffic in a small way with 
twenty poor people, — hucksters, cobblers, sewing- women, — all 
struggling honestly to keep soul and body together through this 
hard year. Liberal pay for their labor, a few pennies here, a 
dollar there, given as wages, not alms, with hearty praise for 
work well done, would have helped many a sore heart and 
warmed many a cold hearth ; but she will tell you that duty 
requires her to give, not pay, her tithe of charity. It goes, 
therefore, to applicants of whom she knows nothing, or to 
organized associations ; is sometimes well and as often ill 
bestowed. 

The quality of mercy and its substance, whether that be 
money, old clothes, or cold victuals, is much more apt to bless 
those who give than those who take, unless there be personal 
sympathy given with it. The poorest beggar takes mere alms 
with a sullen sense of injustice. If our conscientious friend, and 
our readers who are of her persuasion, would contrive to turn 
the alms given from their household into wages, and their 
homihes into sympathy, the coming winter would not prove so 
prolific in well-fed tramps and starving tradesmen. 

There are other kinds of charity which are much more help- 
ful than money-giving, and are frequently practicable by those 
who have least money to give. There is influence ; the per- 
sonal trouble required to write a letter or to make a call, in 
order to find pupils for the poor visiting governess, or more 
work for the cobbler, or a better position on the railroad for 
the young fellow across the way who supports his mother and 
sisters. There is the magazine carefully saved and forwarded 
to the poor teacher among the hills who cannot afford a sub- 
scription; there is the glimpse of town given to the country 
cousins, the fortnight at the sea-shore for the seamstress and 
her pale little baby. There is the invitation now and then, and 
the hearty welcome always, to the lads alone in the great city 



l6 HOME TOPICS. 

who know only our own family; in short, the giving of trouble 
and sympathy, not money, to those who need help. Some few 
women have that witch-hazel power which enables them to find 
out the human nature in their cook or washerwoman, as well 
as in the people they receive in their drawing-rooms. Such 
women are benefactors, though they should never be worth a 
dollar of ready money; and however cheap their houses or 
poor their table, nobody can cross their threshold without feel- 
ing that he has drawn nearer to the sun, and has been there 
royally warmed and fed. 



'' DE GUSTIBUSr 

WHEN Madame de Stael said that taste teaches what we 
should avoid, she left her definition half-finished. If 
taste only taught us that, we should be reduced to a state of 
aesthetical atrophy, or rather to that forlorn condition in which 
Sancho Panza found himself at the dinner table, when dish 
after dish disappeared before the hungry governor at the 
instance of his too cautious medical adviser. There is indeed a 
direct analogy between the physical sense and the intellectual 
attribute which most languages express by the same word, and 
it is nowhere more apparent than in the extraordinary diversity 
of choice which is common to both. We all have our conven- 
tional notions of good manners — of what is to us real eye- 
pleasure or ear-pleasure. The sources of gratification to sight 
and hearing are as numerous and opposite as those which are 
experienced by the palate itself In the whole range of gas- 
tronomy, from the appreciation of caviare to a relish for cow- 
heel, there is no more of epicurism, no greater variety of zest, 
than in the field of mental appetite. The gradations of taste in 
the hiLdiest sense of the word are infinite. For instance, we 
all know that it would be hopeless to set up in any given sphere 




HELPING MOTHER. 



" DE GUSTIBUS. 1/ 

of life a standard of aesthetics which should be followed by all 
who move in that sphere. The influence of education, of tem- 
perament, of association, of example, would soon be felt in a 
thousand different ways, and would render our definition of 
taste (in so far as it implies excellence of judgment) impossible. 
The truth is that this faculty is dependent on, and has in a 
great measure to accommodate itself to, the age in which we 
live, the country which we inhabit, and the condition of life in 
which we are born. That code of good manners which it w^as 
once the fashion to call etiquette requires constant revision, — is 
in fact being constantly revised from time to time. How many 
changes have we seen in our own day, from the stately 
"deportment" of the Georgian era, which still lingers among 
old gentlemen, to the free and easy habits of their grandsons ! 
The '* swell " of 1878 differs as much from the " buck " of 1838 
as the buck of that date differed from a '* dandy " of the Brum- 
mel type, and Brummel himself from a "macaroni" of a pre- 
vious age. The change is not always in one direction. In 
some matters our social by-laws have relaxed their severity ; in 
others have become more stringent. Children are no longer 
expected to address their father as ''sir," nor to bow^ to their 
parents on entering a room, as was once the custom. On the 
other hand, a boy from Eton w^ho should now use as much 
license in speech, and abuse servants in such language as was 
common with young gentlemen a generation or so ago, would 
hardly be considered a gentleman at all. The rules laid down 
by Lord Chesterfield for the behavior of his son at table, etc., 
sound as obvious in the ears of a modern youth of good breed- 
ing as if he were told that he must not omit the first letter of 
the word "horse." School-mistresses are not still obliged to 
inveigh against the impropriety of eating pease with a knife. 
We have reached an age of refinement when such points are 
universally conceded ; yet it must be confessed that the rising 
generation has contracted certain habits of dress and carriage 
which would have been thought slovenly half a century ago. 
" Until I was fifty years of age," said an old gentleman once 
to the writer of these lines, " I never thought of sitting in an 

2« 



1 8 HOME TOPICS. 

arm-chair unless I was unwell." Now every young bachelor 
sprawls upon the sofa to read or smoke. 

The deference, too, which was formerly paid to the aged by 
their juniors has diminished so much that it promises to be 
fairly obliterated. In the early part of this century, boys of 
eighteen were still boys, who did not venture to join in the con- 
versation of their elder relatives unless they were encouraged to 
do so, which was but seldom. If they expressed an opinion, 
it was with that sort of modesty which was expected from 
the Greek youth, who were accustomed to hang their heads 
down in the presence of their elders. In our own day, the 
social toga virilis is assumed much earlier, and a lad who is 
still at school will often answer and argue with Paterfamilias as 
if the two were on an equal footing. 

It is unnecessary to discuss here the merits of the change 
or to consider how far this increase of familiarity — although it 
may diminish the respect — will often increase the love which a 
son bears to his father. The fact is merely mentioned as one 
of many causes which make it difficult to give any permanent 
definition of taste in its relation to good manners while good 
manners themselves are subject to such continual changes of 
fashion that the habits of a well-bred man in one century would 
be barely tolerated by modern society in the next. It will, 
perhaps, be argued by some that it is the acquaintance with, 
and self-accommodation to, these conventional rules which 
constitute good manners in any age. But this is an axiom 
which the moralists will not allow us to accept. Indeed, the 
more we attempt to associate taste with moral influence, the 
more perplexing seems the problem to be solved. Was any 
court more punctilious than that of Louis XIV. ? Was not 
his late Majesty King George IV. known as the " first gentle- 
man of Europe " ? 

Many reasons may be assigned for the want of sympathy 
and cordiality which has existed between the aristocracy and 
middle-class life. Intellect has, with few exceptions, found its 
proper level in every age. But it requires intelligence of a 



" DE GUSTIBUS." I9 

peculiar order — a rare combination of the best qualities of head 
and heart — to endow men with that degree of refinement 
which is necessary to fit them for a higher sphere of life than 
that in which they were born, and for the society of those 
whose superior breeding and more polished manners are due 
not only to education but to Nature herself. 

Should these conditions, however, be fulfilled, the desire 
which prompts men to associate with others who, though occu- 
pying a higher social station, are more their equals in regard 
to intellect and manner than most men of their own standing, 
is natural enough. No one can be blamed for seeking that sort 
of company, whether among his betters or his inferiors, from 
which he can really derive an honest pleasure. It is the run- 
ning after a mere title for the sake of self-aggrandizement 
and the abject truckling for worldly objects which constitute 
real toadyism. There is often as much vulgarity exhibited in a 
contempt, whether real or affected, for what outsiders call the 
beati 7nonde as there is in the overtures which are made to gain 
its favor. One is the result of a sickly sense of dependence, 
the other of a rampant egotism ; and both tend to what every 
gentleman must consider a violation of good taste. The first 
and most obvious test which we apply to ascertain each other's 
social characteristics is derived, of course, from conversation. 
The manner in which our ideas are expressed, although it may 
leave unrevealed all that pertains to moral disposition, is a ready 
index of taste, or rather of the extent to which we possess that 
amiable wariness of mind which we call tact, and which is in 
truth the very soul and essence of good breeding. 

A morose nature will take especial delight in contradictions. 
Some people are never so well pleased as when they can gain- 
say what they hear, at once, and without qualification. " Is 
\\y3X your opinion? Well, / don't think so." ''Pardon me, 
nothing of the kind ever happened"; or, "I differ from you 
completely.'" These are the expressions of a man who is 
charmed to be at variance with you. If he could agree with 
your remarks he would not be half so happy. Should you be 
wrong in what you have advanced, he will not gently set you 



20 HOME TOPICS. 

right. He must do so in his own vulgar, bullying fashion, — 
with such a flourish of trumpets as shall not be mistaken for 
anything but victory. We may place in the same ranks with 
such a character the vain and narrow-minded enthusiast, who 
looks on the whole world from his own point of view, and 
refuses to regard any subject but in the light by which he 
himself may be imperfectly illumined. He will not modify 
his theories one jot in discussion, whether they be theological,, 
political, or artistic. He is absolutely right, and everybody 
who does not agree with him is absolutely wrong. The end- 
less variety of condition and impulse to which the human heart 
and mind are subject is totally ignored by him. It never 
occurs to such a man that two people may hold very opposite 
opinions on many subjects and yet be both justified in doing 
so. Instead of '' smmi,'' he reads meum " cuigue,'' and would 
have the whole world cry. Amen. 

Another sort of selfishness may be observed in the monop- 
oly of conversation which certain small wits hold to be their 
right. Most people will admit that, in social and convivial 
circles, the man who enjoys a reputation of being ''amusing" 
frequently becomes an insufferable bore. It may not be always 
his own fault ; but a man of this stamp is generally so spoiled 
by flattery, so long accustomed to look upon himself as an 
everlasting source of entertainment, that he not only believes 
everything he says must be entertaining, but that it is his 
incumbent duty to say as much as possible. The consequence 
is that his friends have to listen to a monologue of more or 
less interest, and find that any remark which they chance to 
make is only made an excuse for repartee. Of course, the 
same objection may be raised against any excessive talker, 
whatever may be the worth of his discourse. The prolonged 
attention which is given in a lecture- room cannot be expected 
in ordinary society, when everybody is looking for his turn to 
speak. The most loquacious persons are generally the worst 
listeners. Yet the art of listening — or, at least, of seemuig 
interested in what others say — is one of the mos?t important 
elements of polite conversation and good manners. Next to 



"DE GUSTIBUS. 21 

garrulity, in order of objectionableness, stands that mysterious 
reserve noticeable in some characters, and of which it is impos- 
sible to say how much proceeds from natural shyness, how 
much from a sour and ungenial disposition, and how much 
from actual stupidity. It seems paradoxical to say so, but an 
undue diffidence not unfrequently results from a certain kind 
of inactive vanity. A man must think a great deal about 
himself before he cares what others think of him ; and it is 
frequently the foolish notion that everything he says and does 
will be important enough to demand criticism, which makes a 
timid man cautious and silent. Moreover, it is well known 
that those people are most anxious to maintain their dignity 
who have little real dignity to maintain. Servants, for instance, 
are much more punctilious about the nature of their duties 
than those who employ them; and often, while James and 
John are discussing down-stairs whose place it is to answer a 
bell or carry a parcel, their master, had need been, would have 
readily undertaken the duty himself Thus men of an insig- 
nificant presence or dull understanding frequently assume a 
much more lofty air in society, where they think it necessary 
to assert themselves, than those whose superior manners or 
abilities command a real respect. The former, conscious of 
their own deficiencies and adopting an artificial substitute, 
may be compared to a man on stilts, who holds his head 
higher than his companions, but walks uneasily, because 
unnaturally ; while others, who are content to be as nature 
made them, go through the world with less pretensions, 
indeed, but with infinitely more comfort to themselves and 
all around them. 

It appears that some men of this class either affect, or are 
really possessed by, a total apathy for everything which excites 
an interest in healthy minds. They have not a note of admira- 
tion in their composition. The language of praise never flows 
from their lips. On them the poet's finest thoughts are thrown 
away — the musician wastes his sweetest strains. For them 
the painter plies his magic art in vain. All that is fair and 
lovable in nature and humanity seems but a dead letter to 



22 HOME TOPICS. 

these cold batrachian tempers. The genial current of the soul 
is frozen up, and sympathy with the outside world becomes 
impossible. In the society of such people no cheerful inter- 
course takes place, and life itself can only wear a dull and 
leaden aspect. Is anything more irritating than the sulky indif- 
ference with which they meet the remarks of those who have 
the spirit and capability to appreciate and enjoy ? That half- 
muttered assent — that dreary shrug of the shoulders — fill an 
earnest man with honest indignation. Truly it would seem as 
if an absence of all taste were more intolerable to contemplate 
than taste which is even wrongly directed. 

Women are, as a rule, possessed of such natural shrewd- 
ness and keen perception in the affairs of ordinary life, that 
any deficiency of moral taste in them proceeds from bad disci- 
pline of the heart rather than from want of tact. They are 
said to be good actors in what may be called the by-play of 
life's drama; and so, undoubtedly, they are, when they have 
an end in view, and especially when desirous to please. But 
if no such object exist, envy, hatred, malice, and uncharitable- 
ness rise to the lips of an ill-tempered woman as surely as 
bubbles to the surface of a troubled stream. Who has not 
noticed the knitted brow, the scornfully curled lip, the flushed 
cheek, the bridled chin, and silly sneers of petty rivalry and 
peevish displeasure which mar sometimes the fairest faces ? A 
girl who has been injudiciously brought up, who has been 
petted and spoiled by her relations, whom no one has dared 
to contradict, and who has been accustomed to receive the 
homage of her little circle, bids fair to be less liked in general 
society than many with half her good looks and accomplish- 
ments. The Petruchio who has the taming of such a Katharine 
is not, indeed, to be envied. It requires no little courage and 
judgment on his part to inform his wife that the world will not 
be prepared to render her that deference which she was accus- 
tomed to exact at home. Such a woman, consumed by endless 
jealousies, is always ready to depreciate those qualities of her 
own sex which she does not herself possess, and, instead of 
paying honest tribute to the excellence of characters which do 



PERSONAL ECONOMIES. 23 

not accord with her own, finds, like Pope's Atossa, a sort of 
maHcious pleasure in disparagement. 

" Who with herself, or others, from her birth 
Finds all her life one warfare upon earth : 
Shines in exposing knaves, and painting fools, 
Yet is, whate'er she hates and ridicules : 
No thought advances, but her eddy brain 
Whisks it about, and down it goes again." 

If moral taste is the natural consequence of good breeding 
and an amiable disposition, it is evident that it must be want- 
ing in such a character. 

On the other hand, what better example of kindly fore- 
thought and subtle delicacy can be found than in the bearing 
and conversation of an amiable English gentlewoman ? Honest 
without being blunt ; able to please without resorting to 
the sickly wiles of coquetry ; gentle and refined in all she 
says and does ; ever ready to defend instead of to malign ; 
she is literally incapable of giving offense to any whose good 
opinion is worth retaining, and she may, indeed, be consid- 
ered a perfect model of that precious quality which unites the 
wisdom of the world with true benevolence of heart. 



PERSONAL ECONOMIES. 

IN this country, we naturally go to New England, and, alas ! 
to an earlier time, for examples of personal economy and 
thrift. Almost any New-Englander can recall a country min- 
ister who, on his little yearly salary of three or four hundred 
dollars, managed, by the help of his wife, to live respectably 
and comfortably, educate a large family for self-support and 
social usefulness, and lay up something every year against the 
rainy day which comes in all men's lives. We have wondered 



24 HOiME TOPICS. 

how it was done, but we know it was done, and that he died 
at last the possessor of a nice Httle property. New England 
has been noted for its hard scii and its hard conditions gener- 
ally, yet there is no other spot on the face of the earth that 
contains so much human comfort to the square mile. Every 
man born on New England soil tries and expects to better his 
condition during his life, and he goes to work at the beginning 
with this end definitely in view. The rich men of New England 
are men who began their prosperity with humble savings. 
Whatever their income was, they did not use it all. Twenty- 
five or fifty dollars a year was considered quite worth saving 
and laying by. These small sums, placed at interest, accumu- 
lated slowly but surely, until the day came at last when it was 
capital, to be invested in business with larger profits. A fort- 
une acquired in this way was cohesive, strong, and permanent. 
We are quite aware that something of grace and lovable- 
ness was lost in the habit of these small economies. Men grew 
small quite too often, and pinched and stingy, by the influence 
of the habit of penny savings. This has been brought against 
New England as a reproach, but New England has replied, 
with truthfulness and pride, that no people of the country or of 
the world have been more benevolent than her own econom- 
ical children. She points to the vast sums she has expended 
on Christian missions, and to the great public charities whose 
monuments crown her hill-tops, and shows that at the call of 
Christianity and humanity her purse, filled with such pains- 
taking and self-denial, flies open and empties itself to fill the 
measure of the public need. At any rate, we know that there 
is not a State in all the West that has not gone to New England 
for the money to build her towns and her railroads, and tliat if 
she has ever been laggard in her hospitalities, such as she has 
practiced have been at her own expense, and not at that of her 
creditors. New England is rich — and this, after all, is what 
we are trying to say — notwithstanding a hard soil and an 
inhospitable climate. Circumstances were against her from the 
beginning, and economy was what enabled her to conquer cir- 
cumstances, and to lift herself to the commanding position of 



PERSONAL ECONOMIES. 25 

wealth and influence which she holds to-day. The men who 
had an income of three hundred dollars a year, at the begin- 
ning lived on two hundred dollars. The men who had an in- 
come of five hundred dollars lived on three hundred dollars. 
Those whose income reached one thousand dollars lived on 
half of that sum, and so on. They practiced self-denial. They 
had no great opportunities for making money, and knew that 
wealth could only come to them through saving money. The 
old farmer who, when asked what the secret of his wealth was, 
replied, ''When I got a cent I kep' it," told the whole story 
of New England thrift and comfort. Now, if we look around 
us here in the city of New York, we shall, in the light of this 
New England example, learn why it is that so many men and 
women drop into pauperism with such fearful rapidity on the 
first stoppage of income. We know very few men of fixed 
incomes who do not live up to the limit of these incomes, what- 
ever it may happen to be. A man who this year has a salary 
of two thousand dollars uses it all, and when it goes up to 
three or four thousand dollars he uses it all in the same way. 
It seems to make no difference how much he receives — the 
style and cost of living expand immediately so as to absorb all 
that comes. Those who have no fixed income, and are engaged 
in trade, adopt the style of the prosperous men around them, 
and strain every effort to bring up their income to meet the 
requirements of that style. Every family, instead of endeav- 
oring to see how small they can make their expenses, endeavor 
to see how large they can make them, or how large their 
income will permit them to be. The fixed purpose to save 
something out of every year's income, and so to graduate 
expenses that something shall be saved — the policy of rigid 
self-denial for the purpose of accumulating property, even 
though it be slowly, does not apparently exist in this commu- 
nity. So, when the bread-winner is disabled, or dies, his family 
drops into abject and utterly helpless poverty in a day, and all 
life is embittered thenceforward, simply because no self-denial 
had been practiced while the worker lived, or was able to work. 
The man of small or modest income looks around him, and sees 



26 HOME TOPICS. 

many who are rich and who are not obliged to think of every 
penny they spend. He regards himself as their social equal, 
and wonders why it should be necessary for him to be so 
pinched in his spendings and so plain in his surroundings. He 
does not consider how much and exactly what, the wealth 
which moves his envy has cost. He may be sure that some- 
where, at the foundation of all the wealth he sees, there was 
once a man who practiced rigid self-denial, and studiously 
lived within his income, and saved money although his income 
was small. All fortunes have their foundations laid in econ- 
omy. The man who holds the money to-day may have inher- 
ited it through the accident of birth, but it cost his father or 
his grandfather years — perhaps a life-time — of economy and 
self-denial. There is no royal road to wealth any more than 
there is to learning. It costs hard work, and the relinquish- 
ment of many pleasures, and most men may have it who will 
pay its price. If they are not willing to do this, why, they 
must not complain of their lot when their day of adversity 
comes ; and they ought to have the grace to make themselves 
just as little of a nuisance as possible to those who have 
secured a competence and paid the honest price for it. 



HOW TO KEEP HOUSE ON A SMALL SALARY. 

AFTER many years of married life passed in comparative 
affluence, reverses came, and my husband was obliged 
to accept a situation in a large city, with a small salary of 
eight hundred dollars per year. I felt that this could suffice 
for our maintenance only by the exercise of the strictest econ- 
omy. A little over fifteen dollars a week ! How many times I 
divided that eight hundred dollars by fifty-two, and tried to 
make it come out a little more ! Still I determined to solve 
the problem of the day — namely, whether one could keep 



HOW TO KEEP HOUSE ON A SMALL SALARY. 2/ 

house on a small salary, or whether boarding-house life was a 
necessity, as so many clerks' wives assert We had neither of 
us been accustomed to economizing, and I felt it was but just, 
if my husband worked hard for his salary, that I should per- 
form the labor of making it go as far as possible. 

Thirty replies were received to our advertisement for two 
unfurnished rooms, without board. Looking them over care- 
fully, I selected half a dozen which came within our means, and 
started on an exploring expedition. In a pleasant house and 
neighborhood I found a lady willing to rent two adjoining 
rooms, with closets and water conveniences, for the modest 
sum of twelve dollars per month. In one room there were 
two deep south windows, where I could keep a few plants in 
the winter. I consulted my husband, and with his approval 
engaged the rooms. 

We had one hundred and seventy-five dollars, ready 
money. With this we bought bright but inexpensive carpets, 
a parlor cook-stove, an oiled black-walnut set of furniture, a 
table, a student lamp, a few dishes, and some coal. With the 
few pictures, a rack of books, and some ornaments in our pos- 
session, we decked the rooms tastefully, and commenced the 
serious business of keeping house on eight hundred dollars per 
year. We determined from the first that we would not have 
any accounts, but would pay cash for everything, and when 
we could not afiford an article, do without it. After paying 
rent and washerwoman we had fifty dollars per month for 
other expenses. Twenty dollars of this furnished us a plenti- 
ful supply of food and paid car fare. I learned to love my 
work. Strength came with each day's labor, and renewed 
health repaid each efTort put forth to make my little home 
pleasant and restful to my husband. And how we did enjoy 
that little home ! 

When the stormy nights came, we drew our curtains, 
shutting out the world, with a bright fire, and the soft glow of 
our reading-lamp upon the crimson cloth, reading a magazine 
or evening paper (in which we were able to indulge), with a 
"God pity the poor this dreadful night!" forgetting in our 



28 HOME TOPICS. 

cozy and comfortable home how many there were in the great 
city who would call us poor. We always kept within my 
husband's salary, wearing plain but good and respectable 
clothing, and eating simple but substantial food. And now, as 
circumstances have been improving with us, and we are living 
in a house all our own, with servants, and thousands instead of 
hundreds a year, we look back to the year spent in our simple, 
frugal little home, and know that it will always be the happiest 
portion of our lives. 



CITY SHOPPING FOR COUNTRY FRIENDS. 

WHAT is so dear to the heart of an American woman as a 
bargain? It would really seem that to make a very 
httle money buy a great deal, without reference to any other 
expenditure involved, were now the "chief end" of woman. 
Listen to the bits of talk that float into your ear as you stem 
the tide of Broadway, or the main shopping street of any of 
our large cities. The burden of the conversation is always 
bargains, bargains, bargains. ''What was the price of this?" 
or, ''Where can this be bought cheapest?" or, again, *' Is n't 
that lovely! I wonder how much it costs?" 

This is only one of the petty ramifications of the commer- 
cial spirit, which, in excess, will eat the heart out of any nation, 
or of any nature. The spirit of trade, the dominant purpose 
of giving the least and getting the most, is not limited to our 
great business exchanges. It is all abroad, poisoning our spir- 
itual atmosphere, tainting our social relations, weakening the 
springs of noble and disinterested action, and breeding a host 
of mean and petty vices in the individual. So far from being 
confined to our great cities, it appears to possess the homeo- 
pathic quality of gaining potency by subdivision, of growing 
stronger as it deals with more minute quantities. 



CITY SHOPPING FOR COUNTRY FRIENDS. 29 

Many country people, who take the city papers, fairly gloat 
over the enticing advertisements — with prices attached — of 
''great sacrifices," ** unexampled opportunity for buyers," etc.^ 
etc., etc. They seize the bait and walk into the trap — oh^ 
wise country people! — by proxy. And the poor proxy is 
called upon to make good the unprincipled promises of the 
tradesman. 

To add to the trouble occasioned by these vicious adver- 
tisements, country people have the most erroneous ideas in 
regard to city life. Every woman living in the country or in a 
small village knows by painful experience the burden of her 
own cares, and the exactions of her own duties. She has usu- 
ally no conception of other cares as heavy, and other duties as 
absorbing, as her own, though entirely different from them. 
She is apt to fancy her city neighbor living a life of luxurious 
idleness, spending her time in a round of pleasures; and to 
feel it rather a virtue to supply a motive to this aimless life. 
She does not take the trouble to inform herself about the state 
of the case before she passes judgment and acts upon it. She 
does not try to understand, or care to remember, that city life, 
while it enjoys certain immunities, entails peculiar duties and 
suffers myriads of interruptions; and that time, which is such 
a cheap commodity in the country, comes to be very precious 
in the hurry and bustle of city life. 

There are cases where money to buy the bare necessaries 
of life is hard to get, and when the only thing left to a woman 
is to make it do its very utmost. But such cases lie entirely 
outside the question at issue. I am not talking of the necessa- 
ries of life, but of its luxuries. Possibly, a woman has the 
right to spend days and days in laborious bargain-seeking, if 
her time and energy are worth absolutely nothing to herself, or 
to anybody else. But when it comes to weighing against a 
few of our petty dollars other people's time, and strength, and 
comfort, the aspect of the matter changes. Nothing but neces- 
sity will redeem this from being a gross imposition. 

I am living in a small country town. I want a new dress. 
I have something which I coidd wear, to be sure, but I want 



30 HOME TOPICS. 

something new. It must be very pretty, suitable for the 
street, but not too plain or somber for a quiet dinner-party. It 
must be stylish, of course, and it must be cheap. I bethink 
me of some city friend, and feel sure she "wont mind." She 
goes out every day, and she can easily find just what I want 
in one of her afternoon strolls. I write, giving her the vaguest 
possible directions, only it must not be this, or that, or the 
other, and it must suit my style and complexion. While she 
is about it, will she not get me a pair of gloves to match, and a 
simple hat, with materials for trimming it, and any httle new 
and pretty things for the neck. What a caressing tenderness a 
woman feels for her neck ! I generously leave the decision, 
the responsibility, everything, to her taste. No, not quite 
everything: I limit her in the price; about that I am very par- 
ticular. Perhaps I send her a check to cover expenses with 
the order, but probably I say to myself, "No, she will not 
mind. I will send it to her when I know the exact amount. 
City people always have such sums about them." 

But the question has another aspect, of which this innocent 
/ is entirely unconscious, and which should be made clear. 

The city friend accepts the commission, the first time 
cheerfully; after repeated experience, with a weary sigh. 
She spends days walking the muddy or dusty streets, trying 
to make the very indefinite directions about beauty, and style, 
and suitability harmonize with the extremely definite ones in 
regard to price. She finally concludes her task. The dress, 
with trimmings and cut-paper pattern, the hat with its numer- 
ous belongings, the gloves, the neck- wear, etc., are bought, 
and the results of all this matching, and selecting, and think- 
ing, of these weary walks and squandered hours, come home in 
a number of paper parcels. But the end is not yet. A suita- 
ble box must be found ; the house is ransacked in vain. An- 
other trip — for who ever seriously and reasonably thought of 
the box till the last moment? — and a box is bought (an item 
not entered in the account). One whole morning is then de- 
voted to packing it, nailing it up, marking it, and dispatching 
it to its destination. 



CITY SHOPPING FOR COUNTRY FRIENDS. 3 1 

After all this labor, my box arrives. I open it and pounce 
upon the small paper containing the account. My heart 
sinks! — I did not think it would be so much. I explore the 
hidden mysteries. Whatever my search may reveal, it is cer- 
tain to be different from the vague, angelic raiment which has 
been floating on the confines of my fancy. I write, express- 
ing my thanks, and perhaps, if I have not done it before, I 
send my check. But down in the bottom of my heart there is 
a reserve of dissatisfaction, which sounds out perfectly distinct 
above all my wordy thanks. 

And my friend — does she feel as cordially my friend as 
ever when she has seen how mean, how inconsiderate, how 
ungrateful I am willing to be to save a few dollars of my 
money? There are agencies for the purchase of dresses and 
bonnets, of gloves and laces, where people are glad to do the 
work, and do it well, for a commission. Samples, catalogues, 
fashion-books, are always attainable, by which selections quite 
as good and satisfactory can be made as by most friends at a 
distance. This mode has its disadvantages: it costs more, and 
one has to pay for the time used, instead of taking it from 
others. 

A singular immunity from this sort of imposition, due to 
superior good fortune, wisdom, or ill-temper (I will not inquire 
too curiously which), makes it possible for the writer to speak 
impersonally, and therefore strongly, upon this growing vice 
among American women. It has been well and wisely said 
that quite as much of the evil in this world springs from 
women's vanity as from men's wickedness. And all other 
forms of this vanity pale before the growing and absorbing 
passion for dress. How many of the noble, and sweet, and 
gracious things of life are yet to scorch up and shrivel in this 
baleful fire, in which so much has already perished ? 



32 HOME TOPICS. 

FROM COUNTRY TO CITY. 

IT is presumable and probable that there arrives in New 
York City every day a considerable number of letters from 
the country, making inquiry concerning what it is possible for 
a country man to do here in the way of business, and asking 
advice upon the question of his removal to the city. Every 
citizen of New York, with country associations, is applied to 
for information and counsel with regard to such a *' change of 
base," and the matter seems worth the few words a careful and 
candid observer may have to say about it. 

It is well, at the beginning, to look at the reasons which 
move people to a desire to make a change. The first, per- 
haps, are pecuniary reasons. A man living in a country town 
looks about him, and can discover no means for making money 
in a large Avay. Everything seems petty. The business of 
the place is small, and its possibilities of development seem 
very limited. A few rich men hold everything in their hands, 
and a young man, with nothing for capital but his youth and 
health and hope and ability, feels cramped — feels, in fact, that 
he has no chance. His savings must be small and slow, and a 
life-time is necessary to lift him to a point where money will 
give him power. It seems to him that if he could get into the 
midst of the great business of the world, he could find his 
chance for a quicker and broader development of wealth ; and 
in this connection, or with this fancy, he writes a letter to his 
city acquaintance, asking for his advice upon the matter. 

Another is smitten by a sense of the dryness and pettiness 
of the social life he is surrounded by in the countr}-, and the 
small opportunities he has for personal satisfaction and devel- 
opment. To be able to live among picture-galleries and in 
the vicinity of great, open libraries; to have the finest theaters 
and the most attractive concert-halls at one's door; to be 
where the best minds reveal themselves in pulpit and on plat- 
form in public speech; where competent masters stand ready 
to teach every science and every art; to live among those 
whose knowledge of the world is a source of constant satisfac- 



FROM COUNTRY TO CITY. 33 

tion and culture; to be at the very fountain-head of the intel- 
lectual, social, and politico-economical influences that sweep over 
the country; to feel the stimulus of competition and example, 
and to live in an atmosphere charged with vital activity, — 
all this seems such a contrast to the pettiness and thinness 
and insignificance of village life, that the young man, realizing 
it, sits down and writes to his city friend, inquiring what 
chance there would be in the city for him. The country seems 
small to him ; the city, large. He feels the gossip that flutters 
about his ears to be disgusting and degrading; and chafes 
under the bondage imposed by his neighbors through their 
surveillance of, and criticism upon, all his actions. He wants 
more liberty, and for some reasons would really like to be 
where he is less known and less cared for. 

There is still another class of country people who long for 
a city life, and whose aspirations and dispositions are very 
much less definite and reasonable than those to whom we have 
alluded. They are not so particular about business or about 
wealth, nor do they care definitely about superior social privi- 
leges, or about the culture more readily secured in the city 
than in the country. They are simply gregarious. They like 
a crowd, even if they have to live in a ''mess." They are so 
fond of living in a multitude that they are willing to sacrifice 
many comforts to do it. Once in the city, no poverty will 
induce them to leave it. They have no interest in life outside 
of the city. These usually get to the city in some way without 
writing letters of inquiry. 

Now, it has probably surprised most inquirers to receive 
uniformly discouraging answers to their questions. For, 
indeed, no man knows the trials of city life but those who have 
left quiet homes in the country and tried it. The great trial 
that every man from the country experiences on coming to the 
city, even supposing he has found employment, or gone into 
business, relates to his home. His thousand dollars a year, 
which in the country would give him a snug little house and 
comfortable provision, would get him in the city only a small 
room in a boarding-house. The two thousand dollars that 
3 



34 HOME TOPICS. 

would give him something more than a comfortable home in 
the country, would give him in the city only a better boarding- 
house. The three thousand that would give him in the coun- 
try a fair establishment, with horses for his convenience and 
amusement, would in the city only give him a small *'flat" in a 
crowded apartment- house; and the five thousand in the country 
that would give him the surroundings of a nabob, would only 
pay the rent of a house on Fifth Avenue. The country rich 
man can live splendidly on from five to ten thousand dollars 
a year, while the city rich man spends from twenty to 
fifty thousand dollars a year. City incomes look large, but 
relatively to city expenses they are no larger than the country 
incomes. The man who lives in the city has experienced the 
remediless drain upon his purse of the life which he lives, and 
feels that the risk which a business man runs of coming into 
unknown circumstances is very great. He feels that unless his 
country friend knows just how he is going to meet that drain, 
he will be safer where he is. City life is naturally merciless. 
It has to take care of itself, and has all it can do to meet its 
own wants. If a man from the country comes into it, and 
fails, he must go to the wall. Friends cannot save him. A 
city looks coolly upon a catastrophe of this kind, for it is an 
every- day affair, and the victim knows perfectly well that he 
can neither help himself nor get anybody else to help him. 
So the city friend, knowing the risks and the needs of city life, 
dreads to see any country friend undertake them. Then, too, 
the faithful records of city life show that the chances are largely 
against financial success in it. 

The man of society who is attracted from the country to 
the city usually fails to calculate his own insignificance when he 
encounters numbers. The man of social consideration in the 
country needs only to go to the city to find so many heads 
above his own that he is counted of no value whatever. "Who 
is he ? " " What is he ? " and " What has he done ? " are ques- 
tions that need to be satisfactorily answered before he will be 
accepted, and even then he will need to become a positive 
force of some sort in society to maintain his position. City 



HEROISM BEGINS AT HOME. 35 

society is full of bright and positive men and women, and the 
man and woman from the country bring none of their old 
neighborhood prestige with them to help them through. 

To sum up what the city man really feels in regard to the 
coming of his country acquaintances to the city, it would be 
not far from this, — viz. : 

First. The chances for wealth are as great, practically, in 
the country as in the city, and the expenses of living and the 
risks of disaster much less. 

Second. The competitions of city life and the struggles to 
get hold of business and salaried work are fearful. No man 
should come to the city unless he knows what he is going to 
do, or has money enough in his hands to take care of himself 
until he gets a living position or becomes satisfied that he can- 
not get one. Even to-day, with the evidences of renewed 
prosperity all around us, there are probably ten applications on 
file for every desirable place, and no man living here could help 
a friend to a place, unless he could create one. 

Third. That the social privileges of the city may be greater, 
while the opportunities of social distinction and the probabilities 
of social consideration are much less than they are in the country. 

Fourth. That in many respects there is nothing in the city 
that can compensate for the pure pleasures of country scenery 
and country life and neighborhood associations. 

Fifth. That a city man's dream of the future, particularly 
if he ever lived in the country, is always of the country and 
the soil. He longs to leave the noise and fight all behind him, 
and go back to his country home to enjoy the money he may 
have won. 



HEROISM BEGINS AT HOME. 

TT7E often hear people speak of a heroic action with a 
V V certain surprise at its performance not altogether com- 
plimentary to the performer. "He forgot himself," they say ; 
'* he surpassed himself"; "he was carried away by a noble 



36 HOME TOPICS. 

impulse." This is not true. A man does not forget himself 
in emergency — he asserts himself, rather; that which is deep- 
est and strongest in him breaks suddenly through the exterior 
of calm conventionalities, and for a moment you know his 
real value ; you get a measure of his capacity. But this 
capacity is not created, as some say, by the emergency. No 
man can be carried farther by the demands of the moment 
than his common aspirations and sober purposes have pre- 
pared him to go. A brave man does not rise to the occasion ; 
the occasion rises to him. His bravery was in him before — 
dormant, but alive; unknown perhaps to himself; for we are 
not apt to appreciate the slow, sure gains of convictions of 
duty steadily followed ; of patient continuance in well-doing; 
of daily victories over self, until a sudden draft upon us 
shows what they have amounted to. We are like water- 
springs, whose pent-up streams rise with opportunity to the 
level of the fountain-head, and no higher. A man selfish at 
heart and in ordinary behavior cannot be unselfish Avhen 
unselfishness would be rewarded openly. If he will not be 
unselfish when he ought, he cannot be so when he would. 
Is it not a question practical for every home : What sort of 
characters are we, parents and children, forming by every- 
day habits of thought and action ? Emergencies are but 
experimental tests of our strength or weakness ; and we shall 
bear them, not according to sudden resolve, but according to 
the quality of our daily living. The oak does not encounter 
more than two or three whirlwinds during its long life ; but 
it lays up its solid strength through years of peace and sun- 
shine, and when its hour of trial comes it is ready. The 
children of to-day, protected, cared for now, must soon begin 
to fight their own battles with the w^orld ; nay, more — must 
make the w^orld in which they live. The future America lies 
in these little hands. They are 

'' Brought forth and reared in hours 
Of change, alarm, surprise." 

What shall we do to make them sufficient for the times upon 
which they have fallen ? 



**YOU OUGHT TO KNOW.' 3/ 

'' YOU OUGHT TO KNOW." 

\ LMOST all of us can remember the friend who upon vari- 
Jr\^ ous occasions has said to us: "Now you must not be 
offended if I say something to you that I really feel it my 
duty to speak about." The most proper thing to do, as a rule 
in such a case, is to knock the man down — if he is not too 
large; — for after he has finished there can be no doubt but 
that you will want to do so, and propriety, or conscience, may 
then prevent. There is another form of friendship quite as 
common, especially among women, that leads one to tell the 
other some neat little gossip about herself or family, not that 
the relator believes a word of it, but because the victim 
"ought to know." These customs among our friends are so 
common that we accept them as matters of course, and even 
when we are most exasperated by them, we know we shall 
forgive them in time. A sad experience teaches us that much. 

The friends who compliment sincerely, or who repeat 
frankly the pleasant things they hear of us, are so rare that 
we seldom meet them. Yet if friendship is looked upon 
abstractly, if it is regarded as a feeling founded on mutual 
regard and congenial pursuits, it is a little remarkable that we 
are so reticent in our expression of appreciation and regard. 

Friendship means help and support as well as mere liking, 
and he has been a poor friend to us if, in the hour of need and 
loneliness, we do not involuntarily recall some word of comfort, 
some expression of confidence, that makes us stronger to bear 
the present trial. 

It is not enough to love ; we must let the loved ones know 
we love them ! 

There are but few persons leading earnest lives who do not 
feel that they fail to thoroughly realize even the most limited 
of their aims, and if they are unhappy enough to be sensitive 
as well as earnest, it cannot be prophesied how much real 
good a hearty word may do them in times of mental trouble. 
Then it is that a true friend will think it well to tell them 
something encouraging, something strengthening and reviving, 
that they " ought to know." 



38 HOME TOPICS. 

TALKING OF OUR FRIENDS. 

A MAN would get a very false notion of his standing among 
xA. his friends and acquaintances if it were possible — as 
many would like to have it possible — to know what is said of 
him behind his back. One day he would go about in a glow 
of self-esteem ; and the next he would be bowed under a mis- 
erable sense of misapprehension and distrust. It would be 
impossible for him to put this and that together and ''strike an 
average." The fact is, there is a strange human tendency to 
take the present friend into present confidence. With strong 
natures this tendency proves often a stumbling-block — with 
weak natures it amounts to fickleness. It is a proof, no doubt, 
of the universal brotherhood ; but one has to watch lest, in an 
unguarded moment, it lead him into ever so slight disloyalty 
to the absent. 

It is a nice question — how much liberty may we allow our- 
selves in talking of our absent friends? It is very clear that 
we may discuss their virtues as much as we choose. That is a 
holy exercise. But their failings! I think it may be con- 
sidered a sign that we have gone too far when we sweep away 
all our fault-finding, our nice balancing of qualities and analy- 
zation of character, in a sudden storm of adulation. 

I suppose the distinction between the different grades of 
friendship should be made clear. Let us say — acquaintances, 
friends, intimates. Most persons can easily place the people 
whom they know under these three heads. Now it does seem 
not only natural but desirable that there should be free, though 
always loyal and kindly, discussion as to the antecedents, the 
surroundiifgs, the prejudices, the whims, the characters of those 
with whom we are thrown in contact, and who come under the 
first two heads. We may thus learn to bear more easily with 
their eccentricities, to appreciate their good points, to judge 
how far we should allow their views to affect ours. As for the 
third class — go to! is not love its own law ? 



TABLE-TALK. 39 

SPEAKING THE TRUTH IN LOVE. 

IT is worth while now and then to have what is called the 
truth told you about yourself. There are times when such 
truth-telling is of great and immediate service. But I have 
noticed that persons who plume themselves upon speaking the 
truth to their neighbors are persons who really have no special 
devotion to truth, but who have, on the other hand, a passion 
for making people uncomfortable. They do not love their 
neighbors ; they hate them, or are indifferent to them. With 
them so-called truth-telling is merely a form of self-indulgence. 

How would it do, the next time the village truth-teller 
comes around, for you to tell the truth to him ? 

" Kind friend, I thank thee for telling me that my daugh- 
ter's manners are rude, and that my uncle, the parson, should 
be spoken to about his method of public prayer, and that my 
Sunday-best-go-to-meeting stove-pipe hat is two seasons 
behind the times ; but let me reciprocate thy kindness by 
informing thee that thou art a selfish old gossip, without 
enough brains to perceive the whole truth about any situation, 
but only a silly half-truth, or a miserable distorted-truth, 
which, from the best of motives, I advise thee to keep to 
thyself." 



TABLE-TALK. 

THERE are, Heaven be praised! very few professional 
talkers in America. The popular verdict has pro- 
nounced your "fine conversationalist" a bore. The days of 
the elaborate story-teller are over. People who have elaborate 
stories or opinions know their market value, and usually put 
them into print at so much per page. We all declare that we 
are in too much of a hurry to write long letters or to study our 
words. We may preach, paint, or reform the world ; but our 
intercourse with our friends must be short, ready, compact, 



40 HOME TOPICS. 

made up of necessary question and answer. There is, in fact, 
a little danger that we shall ignore the importance of conversa- 
tion altogether, especially at home. **At a man's own table," 
we all say, "he surely can be at ease and slipshod in his talk." 

Now, there is absolutely no limit to the slipshod quality 
of table-talk in most families. Decent people, of course, are 
careful about the children's grammar, and guard their morals 
against injury even at breakfast. But there precaution usually 
ends. Mother and father conduct the training of the young 
folks by certain formal means, family worship, Sunday observ- 
ances, rule upon rule, precept upon precept, and then inculcate, 
by their manner and words at the table, faults of character, 
less tangible, but quite as fatal, as those against which they 
have preached. 

The first and most common mistake is that the children 
hear too much of themselves. Especially is this the case in 
families where the parents are conscientious, and have made 
their children the first object in life. They have a well-consid- 
ered theory to meet every point in Joe's and Jenny's career, 
from teething to matrimony. The young folks learn to con- 
sider themselves the sole objects of the labor, thought, and 
prayer of the little world in which they live. Their faults and 
virtues are incessantly discussed in their presence. The 
chance visitor is regaled with an account of Joe's crooked 
teeth or Jenny's musical ear. No matter how eminent for wit, 
learning, or piety the guest at the table may be, his conversa- 
tion is not held to be half so important by father or mother as 
the silly, pert twaddle of the young folks, and the young folks 
know it. The result is inevitable. The children, if they do 
not become selfish, are made, at least, intolerably self-con- 
scious ; school and college do not diminish their conceit, and it 
needs }'cars of hard friction with the world, and a wrench of 
disappointment at its neglect, as bitter as death, to give the 
man and woman a proper estimate of themselves, and to make 
useful and raticnial people of them. 

Another mistake in ordinary family talk is that it centers 
exclusively on home interests and on people, instead of ideas 



UNCHARITABLE CRITICISM. , 4I 

or things. Month after month, year after year, the same 
unceasing dribble goes on over Biddy's short-comings, the 
crop of potatoes. Squire Potts's neuralgia, Sally Hall's flirta- 
tion ; and this not among vulgar, ignorant people, but men and 
women of culture and refinement. It would be a good rule to 
establish at every table that people should seldom be men- 
tioned, and dress never. No education can enlarge the minds 
of children constantly cramped by such petty bounds. The 
only remedy for such belittling thoughts is for parents to test 
their own position in the world, and to find out how insignifi- 
cant a place they and their village and their State hold in it. 
They would begin to learn that life was given them for nobler 
ends than unending chatter over a new gown or the gossip of 
their set. 

Another glaring mistake is, that many Christian people 
who are zealous for the conversion of the world, and who 
besiege the Almighty with prayers for their children, sit down 
at the table daily with gloomy faces and morbid talk, or snap, 
grumble, and scold servants, children, or each other. Children 
and servants are sharp-eyed : they put little faith in a religion 
which is not stronger than dyspepsia or nervous debility. In 
short, it is by this petty table-talk that all religion, morals, 
and rules are tested by the young. It is worth while for 
every parent to consider what kind of teaching is given at 
every meal. 



UNCHARITABLE CRITICISM. 

I WAS once talking with a very interesting person, and one 
with whom it is always a pleasure to talk. After leaving 
him I found myself feeling like a pickpocket, — for I remem- 
bered that I had been led into criticising an acquaintance of 
ours in a free and uncharitable manner. In thinking over the 
incident, it became clear to me that this was the way it hap- 



42 HOME TOPICS. 

pened : The person with whom I was conversing was a man 
himself given to free and uncharitable criticism of others — to 
the kind of insinuation which puts himself in the right, and all 
others in the wrong. He was also a person of such knowledge, 
and such intellectual force and insight, that no one could 
escape the desire to win his good opinion. So, before I knew 
it, I was forced into the contemptible business of asserting 
myself and depreciating others. 

I sometimes think, when I look around upon the commu- 
nity and see the selfishness and lack of consideration that make 
so much trouble and misery ; when I see the absence of 
conscience and the want of generosity in public and in private 
life; when I see young married people — nourished upon a 
diluted ** culture," and trained in a sentimental and bogus 
spirituality — breaking up their homes and forgetting their 
solemn vows of companionship and protection as soon as they 
discover that life is a more serious business than they had 
imagined; — when I see all this, I sometimes think that after 
two or three centuries more of such criticism and despisal as 
Christianity is getting nowadays, the world will awake to the 
fact that there is something in it, after all. 



LISTEN! 



DO you wish to do something toward making your home 
happy ? Do you desire that your brothers and sisters 
should be glad to have you with them, and that you should 
always be a welcome companion to your parents or your chil- 
dren ? Do you want to have your society coveted every- 
where, and to feel, the while, that you are doing good as well 
as giving pleasure ? Would you like to help people to think 
well, and to have them save their best thoughts for you ? 



LISTEN. 43 

Would it please you to get all the good you can out of the 
people you know ? 

If so, learn to listen. 

But first learn what listening is — for it is not merely the 
exercise of the sense of hearing. The stupidest of us all can 
keep ears open and mouth shut. To listen properly means to 
make other people talk properly. That is a social definition, 
if it is not a Websterian one. The good listener is a cause of 
talking in others, and by a proper exercise of this valuable and 
too scarce gift, makes the diffident say what they think, and 
the verbose think what they say. For the greatest talkers are 
careful when they find they have a good listener. They know 
that they may not often be so fortunate, and they talk their 
best. The adept in listening may sometimes hear more pros- 
ing than he likes, but if he be skillful this will not often hap- 
pen. When it is impossible to get anything interesting or 
useful out of a man, he need be listened to no longer. Every 
one of sense will agree to that. But it is astonishing how 
many good things some very unpromising persons will say if 
they be properly and conscientiously listened to. 

To be sure, it is very hard for some persons to listen. 
They have a gift for talking, and they like to exercise it. But 
these are the very persons who should do a great deal of listen- 
ing. They know what a luxury it is to talk, and they should 
give their families and friends a chance to learn the art. 
Besides, like farmers, they will often find much advantage in a 
rotation of crops. A season of listening is often a most excel- 
lent preparative for a season of talk. 

It is often supposed that if a man has a good thing to say, 
he will say it, but this is not necessarily the case. Very often 
he never says it, because no one will give him a chance. He 
don't want to waste his speech on fools, and the smart folks 
want him to content himself with hearing what they have to 
say. This happens — not in connection with very good things, 
perhaps, but with things that might lead to very good things 
— every day and every hour, in thousands of families, all over 
the land — to say nothing of society. 



44 HOME TOPICS. 

There are those Avho so seldom have a chance to speak to 
interested ears, that they gradually withdraw themselves into 
themselves, where, not generally finding much, they intellect- 
ually pine away. 

To be sure, we should not fail to become good talkers, if 
we can ; but, do what we may, we can only make one talker 
of ourselves, whereas, by proper listening, we may make a 
dozen talkers of other people. 



SOMETHING WORTH THINKING OF, 

HOW would it do for us to say to-day some of the things 
we intend to say in our last illness ? Honor bright ! are 
you not saving up several fine, generous, pathetic little speeches 
to be made on your death-bed ; all the scenery set, full com- 
pany on the stage, grand final tableau ? Ten chances to one 
you '11 forget them then ; or have a rattling in your throat that 
will shake them out of shape. Forth with them now like men 
— ** My dear boy, you have been the light and comfort of 
my life " ; '' My dear girl, without you I would have been 
nothing in this world." 



VILLAGE SOCIETY IN WINTER. 

TT 7ITH the closing of the doors and lighting of the fires for 
V V winter, accidentals, sociables, sewing and reading clubs 
begin in all inland towns and villages. We have a word or 
two to say concerning these stated little assemblies which 
constitute societv in thousands of our towns. 



VILLAGE SOCIETY IN WINTER. 45 

First. As to sewing- clubs ; the work should be carefully 
restricted to such embroidery, etc., as cannot be done by 
women who earn their living by their needle. The justice of 
this ought to be at once apparent; but it is, as a rule, over- 
looked. We have known the plain sewing taken from the 
seamstresses of a village, and given to church clubs, for a 
winter; the consequence of which was, hungry women asking 
parish help, and a stained-glass window back of the pulpit. 

Secondly. In reading- clubs, let the time for each reader be 
limited by inflexible rule. If this is not done, there will be 
found in every such club at least one dogmatic, selfish reader, 
who will force his author and his voice upon the club until, in 
disgust and weariness, the members fall off and the experiment 
fails. 

Thirdly. If we may trench upon a most delicate topic, we 
would suggest that in merely social combinations, for the pur- 
pose of music, dancing, or conversation, the old caste lines of 
the town be disregarded. There is no despotism more narrow 
or cruel than the aristocracy of a village. New blood and new 
ideas would generally revivify it ; outside of the so-called 
"good society" of such a place which has been fenced in for 
two or three generations, is frequently found the larger propor- 
tion of intelligence, culture, and breadth of thought. 

Fourthly. The great want experienced by cultured men 
and women in a small town is of books, periodicals, etc., which, 
individually, they are not able to buy. There are very few 
circulating libraries in American towns of a population less 
than ten thousand. This want can be obviated, in a measure, 
by a friendly combination between certain families or individ- 
uals, in which each contributes a given number of books to a 
common stock; these books are loaned to the members in 
turn. 

A more formal and much better way is the formation of a 
book-club, such as were common in England before the estab- 
lishment of Mudie, in which each member pays at the begin- 
ning a certain sum, with which as many books are purchased 
as there are members, each one choosing a book; these pass in 



4-6 HOME TOPICS. 

regular rotation from hand to hand, remaining a fortnight with 
eacli reader ; twenty books may thus be read for the cost of 
one. When the books have passed around the circle, they are 
sold to members for the benefit of the club. Fines for deten- 
tion and abuse of books also keep up the funds. No officer is 
required in this association but a treasurer. Another advan- 
tage in the plan is that books can be bought by the quantity at 
lower rates than singly. The same rule applies to subscrip- 
tions for magazines, newspapers, etc. 



CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 

THE happy Christmas time opens a way of approach to 
the sternest of the self-respecting poor. The barrel of 
flour, ham, or turkey, the comfortable dress for the mother, or 
flannel outfit for the baby, can be sent under cover of a 
Christmas greeting, and welcomed, which on another day 
would appear an insult. Let us spend what money we have to 
spare in this practical, helpful direction, and give to our well- 
to-do friends and intimates something better than money — 
the careful thought and consideration which will discover a 
trifling gift especially suitable to each. The usual practice in 
choosing Christmas gifts is to start out with a full porte-mon- 
naie and come home with it empty, having scoured a dozen 
book and print and curio shops meantime, to "find enough 
pretty things to go round." The gift sent to one friend might 
have been offered with equal propriety to a hundred others. 
Now everybody (worth remembering at all on Christmas day) 
has a fancy, or whim, or association, which a trifle will recall 
and gratify. Now that we have so little monc}% let us set our 
brains to work to remember these whims or hobbies, and to 
find the suggestive trifles, and our word for it, we will startle 
our friends with a more real pleasure than if we had sent them 
the costliest unmeaning gift. There must be a nice discrimi- 
nation, too, in as.sorting these trifles. There are certain folk 



IN MEMORIAM — A CHRISTMAS SUGGESTION. 47 

whom we know to be sorely in need of articles for the ward- 
robe, and to whom we must therefore give utterly useless 
follies, because they know that we know it; and there are 
other and better folk in like condition, who will receive a collar 
or a pair of gloves with as hearty and sincere feeling as though 
the offering were a strain of Christmas music. There is one 
cousin whose gift must smell of the shops and the dollars paid 
for it, and another who, if we sent her our worn copy of 
George Herbert, or the little broken vase which has stood for 
years on the study table, would receive them with wet eyes, 
and find them fragrant with old memories. With genuine 
people of any sort the gift is valued, of course, in proportion to 
the personal care and thought bestowed upon it. The bit of 
embroidery by dear unskillful fingers assumes a worth which 
no priceless point ever knew. Some women's fingers are not 
to be trained to hold the needle or pencil ; for them the 
scroll-saw offers inexhaustible resources. There is literally 
no end to the pretty trifles which can be fashioned with one of 
these magic helps. One of the most successful Christmas gifts 
we ever saw was a quire of thick white note-paper, on the 
corner of which was a monogram of tiniest ferns or autumn 
leaves. '' She thought of me every day for months," cried the 
happy recipient, with tears in her eyes. Another was a little 
cheap photograph of a room dear to the giver and to him to 
whom it was sent. In short, it is not money which we want 
for our gifts, but the tender feeling and fine tact in its expres- 
sion, which no rules or hints can supply if nature has denied it. 



IN MEMORIAM— A CHRISTMAS SUGGESTION. 

THE custom of giving memorial windows to churches has 
become common among us of late years, and there is 
something true and beautiful in the idea which will prevent its 
falling into disuse. There is such a hungry feeling in all our 
hearts to keep a place in the world for our dead — to make 



48 HOME TOPICS. 

them in some degree real and dear to others as they are to us. 
It seems a natural and right thing to do to blend their shadowy 
memories with the softened light that comes to us on God's 
day, or with the faces of saint and martyr rising before us as 
we kneel in prayer. The feeling is so strong and so universal 
that any extravagance in its expression is readily forgiven. 
Fashionable funerals and gaudy monuments have called out 
savage sarcasm from the press lately, and even remonstrance 
from the pulpit ; but we are not sure that the blame belongs 
to the mourners to whom it is given, or to the *' snobbish 
all-prevalent American love of display," which, it is alleged, 
finds here its last and most offensive utterance. The poor 
Irish widow who spends the money which would have 
kept her children for the winter, in " a dacent funeral for 
Pathrick," — hacks, and burning candles, and white gloves, — 
does it, we would fain believe, not from a stagy love of excite- 
ment, but with the fond, fooHsh hope that somehow Patrick 
knows and is pleased ; and the dweller on Murray Hill whose 
dead is snatched when the last breath is yet on its lips, to be 
barred from her by forms and ceremonies — to be heaped with 
floral offerings and borne to the grave amid pompous drapery 
and the glitter and show of liveried equipages, yields to custom 
only that she may not seem to the public to slight the memory 
which she would be glad all the world should honor. Human 
nature is just as loyal and just as tender in a brown-stone 
front as in an Irish cabin, and much more apt to feel pomp an 
insult, and the sorrow of an undertaker a mockery of its real 
grief But human nature is weak and off guard on such a 
day, and the undertaker is as ready and watchful as death 
itself 

One of the most pathetic memorials of a dead child we 
have ever seen was in a stately mansion belonging to one of 
the Brahmin class, as Holmes calls it, of New England. It 
was the chamber of the daughter, who was dead ; an only 
child, who had been very fair, and more beloved than even 
only children are. The chamber, full of light and luxury and 
beauty, was made ready for her coming every morning. There 



IN MEMORIAM — A CHRISTMAS SUGGESTION. 49 

were her old school-books, there was the soft white bed, 
the dainty dresses in the wardrobe, the little slippers by the 
fire ; and there, day after day, sat the mother, waiting, waiting. 
The dreariness, the hopeless hope, the pity of it all, was some- 
thing never to be forgotten. 

Last week we chanced to pass through a hospital sustained 
expressly for poor children. The wards were sunny and 
cheerful ; the fresh morning wind from a broad, bright river 
blew in at the open windows ; inside there were patient, 
motherly nurses ; without, green grass and waving trees, scar- 
let and golden with the early frosts. The children, brought 
out of miserable homes in filthy tenement houses, lay clean 
and sweet each in his little cozy bed, or sat up on the pillow in 
a white night-slip, hugging, as we noticed, a doll or toy. It 
seemed to us that here Christ's charity lingered among men in 
its simplest, most direct form. It seemed as if here the old 
German legend might be true, and that on Christmas morning, 
if the Christ-child did come back to earth with the form and 
face his loving mother knew, it would be to these poor babies 
he would come, to leave his blessing on them and those who 
had cared for them. 

At the head of each bed was a card bearing the name of 
the person by whose charity it was kept, year after year, ready 
for a helpless little inmate. But upon one — in the sunniest 
corner — there was no name, only the words, '' In memory of 
my baby." *' An unknown lady," the matron said, "who had 
lost her only child." Instead of carved altar-piece, or stately 
monument, or stained memorial window, she had this little bed, 
and the poor baby in it was saved from want and death. Over 
it was a picture of the Christ-child smiling, with his hands out- 
stretched. 

The little story of this memorial offering seems to us to 
belong to this Christmas season, when all the Christian world 
is giving gifts. There are so many ways to make our own 
children about the hearth happy and glad — so many people to 
tell us how to do it. But many of us have hidden away the 
memory of a little face that is not here, that never will be here 
4 



50 HOME TOPICS. 

again, to which even in heaven we would fain bring back for a 
moment the old home smile. 

There are the sick children suffering in their filthy homes ; 
there is room yet in the hospitals for other memorial beds; 
and we have faith or superstition enough to believe that when 
one of these little ones on earth is tenderly cared for, the child 
whom Christ holds in his arms above knows it, and is glad. 



'' OH, KEEP MY MEMORY GREEN/ " 

TT 7E know a tender and mourning mother that, after the loss 
V V of her only son, added, in his name, to the town library, 
a department of valuable books of reference for the use of 
mechanics, who, but for her liberality, would have been unable 
to consult the authorities of which they have so great need. 
How much more likely are they to remember him, and to asso- 
ciate his memory with love, than if they were to read a swell- 
ing epitaph on a stately monument dedicated to his memory ? 

Another lady, a most dutiful and devoted daughter, marked 
her mother's grave by a simple slab, and appropriated the 
money, that might have purchased a costlier stone, toward 
educating, in her mother's name, a poor blind girl, who, when 
she grew up, was enabled largely to provide for herself, and so 
keep out of the almshouse, from which she had been taken. 

These are but two of many instances that might be men- 
tioned of affectionate and noble tributes to the dead, not by 
shaft or statue, but by lifting up the lowly, and helping those 
in need of help. 



OLD CLOTHES AND COLD VICTUALS. 5 1 

OLD CLOTHES AND COLD VICTUALS. 

THERE is a pretty story of a French country family, which 
every mother should read to teach her the true practical 
method of charity. She would learn how, in the careful, pious 
French woman's menage, no scrap of clothing or food is suf- 
fered to go to waste ; and how the value of old garments is 
doubled by their being cut and altered to fit the poor children 
to whom they are given. We propose that every housekeeper 
who reads this shall begin to make of this year a prolonged 
Christmas. Let her first find one or more really needy fami- 
lies who are willing to work, and therefore deserve such help 
as she can give. This is a much safer outlet for her charity 
than any agency or benevolent society. In every household 
there is a perpetual stock of articles — clothes, bedding, furni- 
ture — too shabby for use, and which in the great majority of 
cases are torn up, thrown away, or become the perquisites of 
greedy servants already overpaid. As soon as the house- 
mother has some definite live objects of charity in her mind, 
it is astonishing how quickly these articles accumulate, and 
how serviceable they become by aid of a patch here, or tuck 
there, sewed by her own skilled fingers. Our children should 
each be allowed to give away their own half- worn clothes or 
toys. The shoes or top given in the fullness of their little 
hearts to some barefoot Mary or Bob whom they know, will 
teach them more of the spirit and practice of Christian charity 
than a dozen missionary boxes full of pennies for the far-off 
heathen. The same oversight should be exercised by the 
mother of a family in the matter of food. Enough wholesome 
provision, it is safe to say, is wasted in the kitchen of every 
well-to-do American family to feed another of half its size. 
Very few ladies will tolerate regular back-gate beggars, and 
the cold meat, bread, etc., go into the garbage cart, because 
nobody knows precisely what to do with them. A woman of 
society, or one with dominant aesthetic tastes, will very likely 
resent the suggestion that she should give half an hour daily 
to the collection and distribution of this food to her starving 



52 HOME TOPICS. 

neighbors. But if they go unfed, what apology will it be for 
her in the time of closing accounts that her weekly receptions 
were the most agreeable in town? If she would establish, for 
instance, a big soup digester on the back of her range, and 
insist that all bones or scraps should go into it, her own 
hands could serve out nourishing basins of broth to many 
a famishing soul the winter round, and really it would be as 
fine a deed as though she had conquered Chopin on the 
ivory keys. 



MAKING PRESENTS. 

IT certainly seems a little odd that so general a custom as 
that of making presents should often be as perplexing as it 
is pleasant. It would seem as if, money and taste being taken 
for granted, the task of selection, especially in our cities where 
every taste and almost every person can be suited, would be 
quite an easy one. 

The common objects in the purchase of presents are very 
few : we want, in the first place, to express regard, then to 
please our friends, and finally to avoid duplicating anything 
they already possess or are likely to receive. But the trouble 
is, that purchasers too rarely put these objects definitely to 
themselves. The one fact before them is that they are to 
select and buy a certain number of gifts, and from this vague- 
ness arises half the trouble. It is not likely to be true that 
what is suitable for mother may also do for John, or that Paul 
and Pauline may have identical tastes. The bride who receives 
a half-dozen molasses pitchers, as many soup-ladles, any number 
of sugar-tongs, and tea-spoons by the score, may be pardoned if 
she has something of the feeling that prompted a young clergy- 
man to say, in sending a bushel of slippers to a New Year's 
fair, that the ladies of his congregation, in presenting him 
with them, must have thought he was a centipede. A certain 



MAKING PRESENTS. 53 

bridegroom cut the knot tied by the duplication of presents by 
sending all the fans, except one, received by his wife, back to 
their donors, asking them to please change them for something 
else. Very few persons, however, have as much moral courage 
as he — donors are often obliged to see the struggle in a friend's 
manner as he endeavors to make his appreciation of the inten- 
tion conquer his sense of the unsuitabiHty of the gift. 

The most evident ground of choice would seem to be found 
in the friend's personal taste. There is no excuse for us if we 
send bronzes to the young lady who cannot tell them from 
Berlin iron, but who knows genuine coral at a glance ; nor for 
wasting books on people who have no time to read, or rare old 
china on those who think nothing better than a granite coffee- 
cup. A very little reflection will teach us to send our various 
presents where they will at least find appreciation. 

But the real principle in this matter has not yet been here 
expressed. It is not enough to give suitable gifts, nor to avoid 
sending our coals to Newcastle. What we really want to 
express is personal association. If the article is of value in 
itself alone, our friend might as well buy it for himself, and we 
make a pauper of him in giving it. But if it has direct refer- 
ence to him, and if it expresses us as well as our regard, it has 
a value that neither money nor taste can otherwise give it. 

We get at this principle in the purchase of gifts by making 
them express the point of harmony between us. We are all 
many-sided, and choose our friends, not for their likeness to 
each other, nor because they all suit one phase of our charac- 
ter. We love two alike, although they are so dissimilar that 
they cannot agree, but each of them suits us in different ways. 
We know why we care for each, and so it is not difficult to give 
it expression. Therefore, although you and your friend may 
care for both books and pictures, if you talk of twenty books 
to one picture, let your gift be for his library shelves, not for 
its v.^alls. If you go to concerts together, send her music or 
something upon the subject; if he receives you in his labora- 
tory, send your remembrance there, or if he is always eager to 
show you a new fossil or a curious shell, remember that geology 



54 HOME TOPICS. 

and conchology each has its Hterature, its rare specimens. In 
this way our gifts are a benefit not only to those who receive 
them, but also to ourselves. 



OUR OLD BOOKS AND PERIODICALS. 

IN that grand upheaval of household afifairs commonly 
termed " the spring cleaning," when waifs and strays turn 
up in the most out-of-the-way places to remind one of their 
forgotten existence, the harvest of literary matter gathered in 
this way in ''a reading family' — of odd numbers of maga- 
zines, cast-away novels, discarded text-books, juvenile works, 
etc. — is something surprising. It is also perplexing to the 
housekeeper, who despairingly asks : *' What shall I do with 
them?" No one being able to solve the problem, she orders 
them into the lumber-closet, and when they accumulate until 
they are obtrusively inconvenient, they are sold for old paper, 
to get them out of the way. 

Hundreds of illustrated and other weekly papers are 
bought every day by travelers to beguile an hour or two of 
a railway journey, and left in the cars ; and tourists purchase 
magazines, novels, and sometimes more valuable books, which 
they leave at hotels, not choosing to burden themselves with 
further care of them. 

Young ladies who have but little to do procure books and 
journals ad libitum to help them to pass away the time. Most 
of these, they throw aside after one reading. 

Piles of daily and weekly papers are constantly accu- 
mulating at the offices of men of business, eventually kindling 
fires or finding their way to the paper dealers. 

Housekeepers, travelers, young women of leisure, men of 
business, do you ever think of the thousands of human beings 
in poverty-stricken homes, in almshouses, in hospitals, in 



OUR OLD BOOKS AND PERIODICALS. 55 

prisons, in pauper lunatic asylums, to whom all this material, 
worthless to you, would bring the liveliest happiness ? Do 
your eyes ever light upon the notices inserted in the papers 
from time to time, informing the public that at such and such 
places donations of old papers, magazines, and books will be 
thankfully received for distribution among the poor and sick ? 
Would it not be a good idea to copy one or more of these 
addresses into your memorandum-book ? 

Not long since, a gentleman visiting a charity hospital, 
remembering that he had some illustrated papers in his pocket, 
gave them to an old man there who could not read. He 
would have forgotten the circumstance if he had not been 
reminded of it by one of the physicians of the institution 
whom he met afterward. " He has not yet finished studying 
those pictures," continued the doctor, after mentioning the 
incident. " Do you remember the dull, vacant countenance 
of the man ? You would be surprised now at its spright- 
liness, and when I spoke to him of the change, he said : 
*0h, Doctor! you can't know what a joy these papers have 
been to me ! I have lain on this bed week after week. I 
have counted again and again all the squares in this counter- 
pane ; I can shut my eyes and put my finger on any particu- 
lar figure in it. I know every speck on the walls of my 
room. I can tell just how many bricks in the wall of the 
opposite building can be counted through my window, and I 
have been so tired until I got these papers.' " 

Is not such a result worth the expenditure of a little 
trouble, a postage-stamp, and a newspaper wrapper ? Gen- 
erous-hearted people often complam that they can give 
nothing, because they have no money to bestow; and yet 
there are so many tender charities that require very little 
money, and sometimes none at all. 

If travelers would mail books and journals to some charita- 
ble institution, instead of leaving them scattered about in cars 
and hotels, the benefit conferred would be out of all propor- 
tion to the small amount of trouble requisite. Stay-at-home 
readers can take their discarded books to some poor unfort- 



56 HOME TOPICS. 

unate they may chance to know, or send them to those who 
are interested in public charities, that they may dispose of 
them. And even many invahds (who are generally great 
readers) will, doubtless, be glad to learn that although appar- 
ently able to do so little for themselves or any one else, they 
have this opportunity afforded them of so greatly helping 
other invalids, more unfortunate than themselves, to an enjoy- 
ment for which they are too poor to pay. 



THE PAIRING SEASON. 

'' Married in May — 
The bride of a day," 

SAYS the old rhyme. But sunshine defies augury. Happy 
eyes refuse to look for skeletons beneath the tender green 
of spring ; modern incredulity laughs at ancient saws ; and 
May and its flowery sisters, June and July, are become dis- 
tinctively the marrying months of the year. 

As the vernal spray deepens on boughs of elm and maple, 
brown-stone fronts begin, likewise, to put forth leaves — of 
invitation, engraven on the very best of card-board. Dress- 
makers' bills swell with the swelling buds ; odors of bride-cake 
pervade and struggle with the faint, sweet fragrance of growing 
things. Tiny homes, which feathered lovers newly wed are 
busily decorating with sticks and straws, are startled by the 
switch of silken skirts, on rapid passage *' down-town " to pro- 
vide for other lovers. Alas ! what voluminous appanage of 
this world's gear ! The very churches take on airs and " trick 
their beams," and flame over arch and pillar with device and 
monogram of gaudy flowers ; while organs, in whose construc- 
tion the stop has apparently been omitted, peal forth an unin- 
termitting " Wedding March," till that time-honored tune 
takes rank in our wearied tympanums with " Shoo Fly " and 
''Old Dog Tray." 



THE PAIRING SEASON. 57 

Each blossom, as it appears, is pounced upon for a " dec- 
oration." Balusters bourgeon, cornice and ceiling, mantel 
and picture-frame, bud and blossom like Aaron's rod. Snowy 
roses engarland gas-fixtures, and shy, surprised liHes find 
themselves wired and imprisoned in "bridal bells." 

'' All this beauty and peace and sweetness. 
All this fragrance and grace and dying," 

all these innocent lives poured out to adorn a single hour ! 
But who will venture to regret ? What tribute too precious, 
what symbol too exquisite, for that supreme hour which sets 
the crown on human lives, and opens wide the beautiful gate 
of that temple whose name is Love ? 

Happy roses, to lend sweetness to that sweetest moment ! 
Happy violets in the mimic clapper, whose swing elicits fra- 
grance more delectable than sound ! Even so, without the 
assistance of florists, the unwired flowers of Eden smiled on 
that first fair bridal, when Mr. and Mrs. Primal Man stood, as 
seen in the Catechism, to receive congratulations from all 
beasts and birds of earth. No ushers, " no cards," and — won- 
derful to think of — no trousseau. 

In our new Eden things are different. Adam and Eve, 
though doubtless important, are no longer paramount in the 
ceremony. They are but the occasion — the provocation — of a 
long train of grandeurs and expenses, without which modern 
marriage would seem impossible ; and if the cards, the supper, 
the gifts, and the gowns could be had as well without bride 
and groom as with them, it is questionable if the company 
would not easily agree to dispense with these ** leading feat- 
ures," and relegate poor Adam and Eve to single blessedness, 
— or, in fact, to no blessedness at all, — with most comfortable 
indift'erence ! 

For it cannot be denied that what with fuss, fatigue, and 
cost, a wedding nowadays is a bore to most parties concerned. 
When the cards come in, the family acquaintance groan aloud : 
" Oh dear, I suppose I must send Emily something ! What a 
nuisance it is ! This is the eighteenth wedding present this 



58 HOME TOPICS. 

Spring!" The home is '' bouleverse" for months; the bride 
reduced to skin and bone by shopping, dress-making, card- 
directing, hst-compihng, note-writing, "trying-on." There is 
no time for sentiment — for love-making — for that tranquil 
bliss which is the dew of souls. Edwin finds Angelina always 
on the sofa — too tired to talk — too tired to drive — almost too 
tired to smile. He bides his time, being used to the phenome- 
non. " Girls always get worn out in their preparations," Ange- 
lina's mother tells him. In fact, he recollects the brides of his 
acquaintance as generally bad-colored and skinny, so it must 
be ** the thing," and inevitable, like Destiny. 

For a week before the wedding, St. Vitus presides over the 
door-bell. The bride's person seems attached as by invisible 
wires to its handle. Each outward twitch produces a corre- 
sponding inward twitch. The express-man, waiting for his 
receipt, catches glimpses of a head with hot, feverish cheeks 
hanging over the baluster. It is Angelina craning her neck in 
anxious expectation of *' presents." Reluctant opulence knows 
what is demanded, and showers gems, lace, silver, bijouterie, 
bronze, in reckless profusion. By and by, human invention 
being exhausted, the splendors begin to repeat themselves in 
duplicate or triplicate. As tea-pots accumulate, paralysis falls 
on sated desire. But then there are the brides-maids to be con- 
sidered, and the brides-maids' dresses, and the breakfast for the 
cortege, and the " Last German," and the rehearsal. And 
though Angelina's back aches dreadfully, and the soles of her 
feet burn like fire, not a quiet second is allowed her. The 
bones in her girlish neck are hidden with blonde ; strong coffee 
winds up the exhausted nerves ; the symbolisms, once so full 
of meaning — now so vapid, are mechanically observed ; the 
kiss, the "woven hands," the train of virgins, the ring, the 
prayer — and, stupefied and delirious with excitement, as the 
poor Hindu suttee with *' Bhang," the bride is hurried into 
her new life as fevered, as dulled, and almost as beyond rational 
reflection as she. 

Even quiet country towns have caught the infection. 
Everywhere are the same wearisome mummeries reiterated, 



ON FOUNDING A HOME. 59 

with the additional labor involved by distance from shops and 
confectioners. The simple village weddings we used to hear 
about are no more. As well not be married, cry our rustic 
maidens, as dispense with cards, reception, and bands of music. 
They even out- Grundy Grundy, and the velvet train and eight 
brides-maids of the English princess are repeated in remote 
Kalamazoo. 

Shall we ever better this ? Who knows ? Perhaps, when 
that great revolution comes, so feelingly prophesied now and 
then by indignant ** dailies," when a corrupt judiciary and a 
monster monopoly are to dangle side by side from city lamp- 
posts, and bench and bar, pulpit and patriotism, to undergo 
regeneration, the real meanings of real words will be restored, 
and the paltry husks be stripped from sacred things. Then 
the revised dictionary will make its appearance, and no longer 
reading "Wedding — A crisis of clothes"; ''Bride — A peg on 
which finery is hung"; ''Bridegroom — A black object follow- 
ing the bride like a point of admiration"! the dear old defini- 
tions will make their appearance again in letters of gold. And 
then shall 

"Come the world's great bridals, chaste and calm — 
Then spring the crowning race of human kind. 
May these things be ! " 



ON FOUNDING A HOME. 

FIRST secure a home, which is, a house to live in, and the 
proper people in it to compose the foundations of home 
life. \ Directions as to house decoration or skillful cookery, or 
the control of cook or chambermaid, are of very little account, 
if the people who sit down in the pretty rooms day by day 
find their hearts torn by jealousy, or their brains rasped by 
nervous irritation. Let Tom and Amelia turn from the altar, 



6o HOME TOPICS. 

resolving to start fair and give themselves the largest chance 
of a clear understanding of each other, and, in consequence, of 
future happiness. Let them turn their backs on boarding- 
houses, shut their eyes to all considerations of style, be deaf to 
all hints of Mrs. Grundy's expectations, and buy or rent a 
house within their means. If they are too poor for a house, 
then a flat ; if not a flat, a room ; or, if the worst comes to 
the worst, let them hire, like our friends at Rudder Grange, a 
canal-boat; only let them go to housekeeping, and go to it 
alofte. Comfortable quarters, perhaps, are offered them in the 
house of one of their parents, who very naturally try to keep 
the young birds, just mated, a little longer in the old nest, 
especially if they are well-to-do people, to whom the addition 
to the family will be only a pleasure and no burden. Amelia's 
husband not being able to support her in the style to which 
she has been accustomed, what can be more proper than that 
they should occupy part of her father's mansion, and reap 
the benefit of well-trained servants, carriages, and sumptuous 
fare ? Or some other motive of economy or affection dictates 
their plans. Amelia's mamma being a widow, and devoted to 
her child, why should she live alone in her house, peopled for 
her, perhaps, by ghosts of the beloved dead ? Why not take 
the spare room in the young people's house and make a part of 
their new life ? Or it may be Tom's unmarried sister or bache- 
lor uncle who comes in to make a third in the partnership 
just begun. Now this new-comer may be the most clever, 
amiable, dearest soul in the world, and the arrangement one 
dictated by prudential motives and affection ; but ninety times 
in a hundred it is destructive of the fine tone and temper of 
the newly formed household. The first year of married life is 
a passage, at the best, over dangerous quicksands ; no matter 
how intimate their knowledge of each other was before mar- 
riage, husband and wife have now to find each other out in a 
thousand new and unexpected phases, and to adjust themselves 
each to the other in the habits, tastes, even language of every 
day. It will require all the tact and the patience which love 
gives to enable them to do this, and the interference, even the 



ON FOUNDING A HOME. 6l 

presence, of a third party is always a disturbing element. The 
more dear and near the relations of this third party, the more 
apt are they to come between the wife and husband. Unfortu- 
nately, too, the whole tone of wedded life usually receives its 
key-note from this first year; and so invariably damaging is 
the influence of outsiders upon it, that the best receipt, prob- 
ably, to insure a happy marriage would be to make a holo- 
caust of all kinsfolk on the wedding day. As that is not 
practicable, let Amelia and Tom hve as much apart as is 
possible for at least twelve months, selfish as such reserve may 
appear to their families. It is a duty which they owe to each 
other. After they have become in a measure one, and the 
uncertainty and disquietude of the storms and sunshine of 
early marriage have given place to a settled home atmosphere, 
the occasional presence of strangers has usually a wholesome 
influence. With the companionship of a guest now and then, 
Tom and Amelia are less likely to find their thoughts and 
opinions grow stale and tedious. Charity, too, assumes no 
more beautiful form than in a gracious hospitality, especially to 
those who are needy in body or mind. We know certain 
households where there is always to be found an orphan girl 
going to school with the other children, or a helpless old black 
*' Aunty " in her chair by the kitchen fire, or some other waif 
warmed and sheltered from the cold without. We remember 
a certain young girl to whom books were a hopeless mystery, 
but who, like most Virginian women, was skilled in house- 
wifery, w^ho took into her father's house, one after another, 
girls of fourteen from an adjoining mill, and trained them her- 
self as seamstresses and cooks, teaching them to read and write 
at the same time. Before and after her marriage she fitted and 
placed eight women in useful, honorable careers of life. The 
home, when founded, should always be large enough to give 
place to some creature needing help, or it may be too small for 
any blessing to rest upon, which falls like dew from above. 



62 HOME TOPICS. 

THE SLAVERY OF TO-DAY. 

AVERY clever hit entitled ''Hidden Despotism" appeared 
in one of our weeklies a number of years ago. The first 
Japanese Embassy had come and gone, and the national 
flutter thereafter had scarcely subsided. The sketch, written 
in a grave, historical form, purported to give the impression 
produced upon the Japanese mind by our American institu- 
tions, customs, and manners. Beneath the freedom conferred 
by the Constitution a subtle but controlling tyranny was 
detected, though its nature and its source remained hidden in 
mystery. After much discussion and philosophizing, a Japan- 
ese savait was dispatched to seek out and formulate this 
subtle power, and to determine and measure the modification 
it exercised upon the republican freedom of society. The 
tireless efforts of the philosopher were at last rewarded by 
success : the rod of iron by which society was ruled was dis- 
covered to be in the hands of the Irish *' girl." 

Few mistresses have been so fortunate as entirely to escape 
this subjugation. And yet, whose fault is it? It is more than 
could be expected, even of the most enlightened human 
nature, to refrain from ruhng when willing subjects present 
themselves. Where tyranny is exercised there must of neces- 
sity be two elements — the tyrant and the slave. 

There are many reasons why really excellent, efficient 
servants attain a complete ascendency in a multitude of 
homes. Girls of the present day — each one of whom in a few 
years will, in all probability, be at the head of a large estab- 
lishment — are educated to do absolutely nothing. They are 
sent to school, probably to a fashionable boarding-school ; 
they dip into all the *'ologies" and come out with a smatter- 
ing of many subjects, but with minds in a far less vigorous, 
healthy, and rational condition than that in which they went in. 
They rush into the rapid and empty whirl of society — balls, 
parties, kcttlc-drums, calls, theater, opera, and, when other 
things fail, inordinate church-going — till the small remnant of 
what they have learned is effectually dissipated. 



THE SLAVERY OF TO-DAY. 6^ 

Without any special training for her duties, and, what is of 
infinitely more consequence, lacking a well-disciplined reason, 
self-control, and moral earnestness, such a girl marries, and is 
installed as queen of her own Httle kingdom, — a kingdom that 
needs constant vigilance, intelligence, and executive ability. 
The first tyranny is the worst of all — anarchy. The poor 
little wife, after the misery and discomfort of trying to rule 
ignorant servants, and endeavoring to teach them what she 
does not herself know, falls an easy victim to the first efficient 
woman who, as cook or housekeeper, consents to take charge 
of her ill- regulated menage and reduce it to order. She 
gladly sells her birthright for a mess of pottage, always pro- 
viding the pottage be well cooked and well served. 

No woman, capable of doing higher work, should consent 
to become a mere drudge if her circumstances permit her to 
delegate the household work to other hands. But, just for this 
very reason, she should inform herself in regard to every kind 
of work which is to be done in her house. A large part of it 
she should know how to do with her own hands. She should 
be able to go into the kitchen and show her cook how to make 
bread, roast meat, prepare vegetables ; she should understand 
the correct ways of sweeping, dusting, bed-making ; she should 
be able to set a table, wash dishes, polish silver. She should 
know when the laundry work is badly done, why the clothes 
are muddy in color, streaked with blue, flimsy, or ill-smelling 
- — and how to rectify the evil. Such knowledge will not add 
to the drudgery of life, but will save an immense amount of 
worry, anxiety, waste, and trouble. To know just how to do a 
thing is the way to command and insure its being well done by 
dependents. 

As a matter of common honesty, no woman has a right to 
marry — even to marry a rich man, in our unsettled state of 
society — who does not know how to order a house, how to 
apportion and direct the work of her servants, and how to 
oversee it intelligently. She is entering into a contract which 
she has not taken the trouble to fit herself to fulfill. Marriage 
is, or should be, something far above and beyond this ; but 



64 HOME TOPICS. 

there is, nevertheless, a material side to it. All the grace, the 
beauty of life are valueless, apart from a fulfillment of the 
homely duties which belong to it. Putting aside all the higher 
obligations, as beyond the question at issue, a woman when 
she marries tacitly undertakes to perform the inside duties of 
the home, just as her husband undertakes the outside work 
which shall insure its support. Her obligation to administer 
the means supplied her is just as solemn as his to supply them. 
If the household work does not go smoothly and well, she will 
find that she has no time or spirits to make home bright and 
sweet. 

A girl who has grown up in a well-ordered home has at 
least the advantage of possessing a good ideal of household 
comfort. Though she may have been kept in dense ignorance 
of the means by which such results have been attained, she will 
at least know toward what she is working; the not knowing 
how to reach her result will entail much heart-sickening 
despondency, many failures, and many tears. It is the most 
fooHsh, the most cruel, policy on the part of a mother to permit 
a young girl to undertake the duties of married life without 
adequate preparation, special or general, to meet the responsi- 
bilities involved. And yet how many mothers do this, and 
justify themselves, with a curious mixture of indolence, selfish- 
ness, and tenderness, by saying, "She will never be young 
but once ; I want her to enjoy life while she can." 

One of the main difficulties in the adjustment of domestic 
service comes from our artificial mode of life. The machine- 
like regularity with which our daily life moves on has a sadly 
dehumanizing tendency. The relation between those who 
serve and those who are served has come to be so rigidly 
fixed, and the human element so entirely eliminated, that it 
might almost be expressed by a mathematical formula. Every 
day and many times a day we come into contact with people 
who have no claims upon us, nor we upon them. We meet 
for the purpose of making a cold and calculating exchange of 
service or property, on the one hand, for a stipulated amount 
of money on the other. In many cases this is as it should be. 



THE SLAVERY OF TO-DAY. 65 

The orbit of our lives must touch many others which it is 
neither necessary nor right that they should intersect. 

There are relations, however, quite as incompatible with 
any recognition of social equality as these, where the human- 
ities have a place ; such, for instance, as that between mistress 
and maid. In a certain sense, a servant coming into a family 
severs her relation with her own people; In that sense the new 
relations should supply the loss. The kitchen walls should not 
inclose a dependency in revolt, where the prevailing feeling, 
under the outward appearance of cheerful civility, is that of a 
strong class antagonism; they should include a part of the 
organic family life. The house should never be divided against 
itself 

A young housekeeper is always in danger of shipwreck 
upon one of two dangerous rocks. She is apt either to treat 
her servants as equals, or as machines, and so forfeit either 
their respect or their love. The suggestion of loving service 
in our modern life is so foreign to our notions as to seem 
almost ludicrous. And yet, just here it is that the secret of 
perfect service lies. And just here it is, too, that we Ameri- 
can women make the fatal mistake. The relation is usually 
founded upon a cold, hard, purely mercenary basis. We give 
our money and our work to foreign, possibly to domestic, mis- 
sions, and we forget that into our hands have been given, in a 
certain though limited sense, souls perhaps starving for sym- 
pathy, or hanging on the very verge of destruction. It is not 
quite enough that you, as mistress of a household, should be 
firm and kind, high-principled and self-controlled, though that 
is far more than most women can pretend to be; but you 
should feel a sense of personal obligation in the relation 
between yourself and your servants. A young, ignorant, 
perhaps pretty, girl is brought into your house, and this is her 
first situation. She is cut off from such restraints as have 
been around her in the home she has left. Her new 
sense of liberty is sweet to her, and is apt to be too 
much for her. It is not enough that you train her in her 
special work, though that is much. You must remember 
5 



66 HOME TOPICS. 

that she is human, that she is young and a woman; that she 
has her joys and sorrows, her heart-sickness and disappoint- 
ments; her small vanities, and fluttering hopes, and peculiar 
temptations. The very fact that, with all the work she has to 
do, her material surroundings are brighter and easier than 
those to which she has been accustomed, that she is warmed, 
clothed, and fed, leaves her free to feel the flatness and mo- 
notony of her life. The familiarity with elegancies before 
unknown to her creates a want; temptations crowd thick upon 
her. You, her mistress, who have introduced her into this 
new life of temptation, are in a degree responsible. You 
should take some oversight of her evenings ; you should leave 
as little temptation to small pilfering as possible in her way. 
This first experience may determine, for good or for evil, her 
life here and hereafter. 

The only way open to a mistress for the exercise of such 
an influence, without that meddling to which no lady can con- 
descend, is to remember always that this servant is not merely 
a device for the accomplishment of certain work, but a human 
being who has claims upon her consideration and her sym- 
pathy. Servants are unquestionably hired to perform certain 
offices, and do certain work ; it is no kindness to them to 
accept as satisfactory careless and imperfect service. But since 
we are always failing in our duties as mistresses, let us cultivate 
charity and forgiveness for the frailties of others. It is quite 
possible to be both strict and lenient — strict in maintaining a 
high ideal even in regard to the petty details of daily life, and 
lenient to the frailty which fails of reaching our standard. 

Special directions how to deal with servants would be 
almost as impertinent as such directions in regard to the 
training of children, but if the true relation is established and 
the proper feeling cherished, — that feeling which recognizes 
the difference of station and at the same time the oneness of 
nature, — the details can scarcely fail of presenting and adjust- 
ing themselves. 

In order to establish the proper state of things, a lady 
should, in the first ]:)lace, know precisely to the minutest detail 



THE SLAVERY OF TO-DAY. 6/ 

the work which each servant in her house is to do; and know 
as well how that work should be done. The new waitress, 
chamber-maid, maid-of-all-work, or whatever she may be, 
should, when she is hired, be told what will be expected of 
her. She should also be given general directions each day as 
to the duties of the day, and the order in which they are to be 
done. If she is familiar with the duties of the place she has 
taken, it is, perhaps, best to let her go to work in her own 
way, and then make such changes as the individual tastes, 
wishes, or habits of the mistress may dictate. Every servant 
who is a good worker has ways peculiar to herself, and she will 
work better in her own way than in any other. If the results 
are thoroughly satisfactory, it is well to give individuality a 
little play. If, however, the work is new to the servant, the 
same routine should be followed each day, the same orders 
given and the same oversight exercised as at first, till she is 
thoroughly drilled. Particular orders conflicting with the gen- 
eral should be given with a recognition in words that the 
general duties must be deferred for the special. Nothing is so 
paralyzing, even to the disciplined mind, as a conflict between 
duties. A margin of time and energy should be allowed each 
day, in which special or unexpected work may be accommo- 
dated. While a mistress sees that her orders are reasonable, 
she should also insist that they be received in respectful silence 
or with cheerful assent, and standing, and also that they be 
literally obeyed. 

Whatever is done imperfectly or forgotten, no matter how 
small the thing may be, should be noticed and corrected, and 
whatever is especially well done commended. A kind word 
of notice is not very hard to bestow, and it gives point and 
emphasis to reproof, raising it above the mere level of fault- 
finding. 

While it is a cardinal mistake to do servants' work for 
them, it is only right and Christian to notice when they are ill 
and unfit for work, and then to ofifer practical sympathy in the 
way of aid. There is a vast deal of cruelty practiced on serv- 
ants in keeping them to their work when they are really ill. 



68 HOME TOPICS. 

Of course, in such a case the poor creature has the Hberty of 
leaving, but if she is honest and has not, by means of small 
pilferings, feathered a nest for herself outside, to which she 
may go, it may not always be possible for her to forfeit part of 
a month's wages, or even to lose her place. 

It is always good policy, if nothing more, to be courteous 
to servants, to recognize little voluntary acts of politeness on 
their part. Done in the right way it never makes a rule less 
stringent, but only less galling. And it is always the worst 
possible policy to scold. Quiet and dignified reproof, of 
course, must be given, but scolding never. Nothing that can- 
not be effected without scolding was ever effected with it, 
unless it be the silent contempt of the servant for her mistress. 



POLITENESS TO SERVANTS. 

IS there not, or at least ought there not to be, a code of 
etiquette for the kitchen as well as for the parlor — for con- 
duct toward inferiors as well as equals ? 

We make our plea for poHteness in the kitchen on the fol- 
lowing grounds : 

First. No lady can afford, for her own sake, to be otherwise 
than gentle, thoughtful, and courteous in the administration of 
household matters. If she reserves her best manners for the 
parlor, where so small a portion of the average American 
housekeeper's time is spent, it is Hkely that they will not 
always be easily put on. The habitual deportment leaves 
marks upon the countenance and the manner which no sudden 
effort can produce. And at housekeeping there are at best 
so many unexpected occurrences, not always agreeable, that 
nothing but a habit of self-control and serenity can tide us 
over them creditably. According to John Newton, it some- 
times requires more grace to bear the breaking of a china plate 



POLITENESS TO SERVANTS. 69 

than the death of an only son ; and there is a good deal of 
truth under the seeming absurdity. Have we not all proved 
by experience that we bear with least equanimity the daily, 
petty vexations which are unexpected, and apparently unnec- 
essary ? But there are many small miseries to one great 
affliction, and if character is to be improved by tribulations, it 
must be mainly by those of every day — the pin-pricks for 
which we are ashamed to demand sympathy. 

Second. For the sake oi family comfort we must have 
comfort in the kitchen. WiUing and unwilling service are 
readily distinguishable by every member of the household. 
We can all of us remember how the atmosphere of a dinner 
party has been suddenly chilled by a few words of unneces- 
sary blame to a servant. To mortify a person is not usually 
to reform him. On the other hand, how delightful to a guest 
are those homes where the relations of masters and servants 
are friendly ; where short-comings on the part of the latter 
are delicately excused in public, and judiciously investigated in 
private. I say, advisedly, investigated rather than reproved ; 
for undeserved misfortune may happen alike to all, and there 
may be occasion for sympathy rather than blame. If Biddy 
has had bad new^s from over the sea, must we not take that 
into account when we find fault with the gravy ? I think 
sometimes we do not remember sufficiently that those who 
serve us are not machines, but men and women of Hke pas- 
sions, and sorrows, and tempers with ourselves. 

Third. For the sake of our servants themselves, we must 
pay them due politeness. Humanity, says Bacon, is sooner 
won by courtesy than by real benefits. If one would make 
thorough and efficient servants out of raw material, it must be 
done by patience and long-suffering. You say they are pro- 
vokingly stupid ; we will suppose they are ; but if we have 
to deal with stupidity, let us use the means best adapted to 
it. Will intimidation succeed ? Did you ever find that scold- 
ing made an order more intelligible, or caused anything but 
broken dishes and ill-cooked dinners ? Then try gentleness 
a little while ; if that will not accomplish anything, send away 



70 HOME TOPICS. 

your servant, and try another. You cannot afford to lose 
your temper ; and a person on whom persistent kindness is 
thrown away, can render you no intelHgent or permanent 
service. 

We put it to the common sense of our readers, whether 
self-preservation, comfort, and duty do not all require of us a 
little more attention to kitchen etiquette ? 



IT is said that, in the rural districts of our beloved land, 
whenever a woman is heard to use the pronoun '*he" 
without prefix, it may safely be taken to mean her husband ; 
and whenever the pronoun '*she," to mean her *'help." 

To a degree this holds good of other localities not so 
strictly rural. With American femaledom in general, wherever 
housekeepers do congregate and caps and bonnets nod toward 
each other in eager converse, "she saids," "she dids," "is 
shes ?" "does shes?" rustle each other like leaves in Val- 
lambrosa, pronounced, now sadly, now inquiringly, now in 
tones of wrath, and again with that little accompanying click 
which speaks such a volume of sympathy. And no wonder 

— for upon this all-important " she," — this pronoun which 
might be classed as "possessive," so does it hold our thoughts 
and anxieties, — depend half our usefulness and all the comfort 
of our daily lives. 

It is "she" who peoples hotels, and drives happy families 
to the shelter of the dingy boarding-house! "She" is a 
depopulator of neighborhoods. Affix this stigma to any spot, 

— "you '11 never get a girl to stay with you," — and vain 
henceforward are the wiles of the house-agent, charm he never 
so wisely. In the arrangement of a home "she" takes share 
in the council. 



"SHE." 71 

"When would Bridget go to church ?" — " Is Ann Hkely to 
be satisfied without anybody to drop in of an evening?" — "I 
don't hke to ask Catharine to go so far away from all her 
friends." Such are the communings of the would-be house- 
holders. And thus, amid the plans and wishes of persons 
infinitely her superiors in refinement, taste, and breeding, the 
inevitable "she" plays her part — a weight in the balance, an 
unknown quantity for whose sake many known advantages are 
foregone, a mote in that sunbeam which else might freely 
shine. 

No longer do we ask merely, " Has Angelina got a good 
husband?" No, indeed. The Edwin of to-day is but one 
feature of the social problem. "And has she got a good 
cook?" is a question almost as important. Edwin may be an 
angel — but while the herb and fruit question presses, Ange- 
lina cannot but sigh occasionally at the thought of the untram- 
meled palmer's weed she put off when she consented to share 
his hermitage. And looking at the ill-supplied scrip and the 
care-worn Angelina, Edwin may scarcely be blamed if now 
and then longings for his bachelor cell visit him. It is sorry 
ending for a poem, but many poems end so, and for the 
broken rhythm and the jangled measure we must make 
responsible that worm in our domestic bud — the all impossible 
"she." 

This "little rift within the lute," whom for convenience' 
sake we will call Bridget, has on the other hand a stand-point 
of her own which it behooves us to consider. True, it is never 
easy to perceive another's stand-point, but woe to that nation 
or that individual to whom it is impossible. 

Let us therefore imagine ourselves for the moment shorn of 
all bright beams of education, precedent, training, and incor- 
porated with the twenty-year-old body and the immature, 
unlettered mind of a Bridget. Senses, selfishness, a tendency 
to shirk work, a desire to "better ourselves" (natural to all 
at twenty) contend in us with some shyness, much awkward- 
ness, and a considerable capacity for impulsive affection — 
principally expended on old things and friends, but in some 



72 HOME TOPICS. 

measure elicited by kindness whenever met with. We are, 
let it be observed, a newly landed Bridget. Of the Bridget of 
ten years later, she of the brazen voice, the artificial flowers, 
the intelligence-office, there is little to be hoped and less 
desired. But Bridget indeed is a creature of possibilities ; her 
flowering depends much upon the quality of cultivation in 
fine, and it is greatly to our advantage that it should be 
of the best. 

How do things go with us after we and our poor little trunk 
are landed on the star-spangled shore ? Well, first we stay 
with a "friend" for a night or two, and collect many improving 
facts as to "missuses" and wages, and then we get a place. 
As we dive into its basement kitchen, and survey the wondrous 
apparatus of faucets, ovens, wash-tubs, boilers, no snipe of our 
native bogs could feel less at home than we. We give further 
stares hither and yon, and gasp inwardly, but far be it from us 
to confess ignorance of anything that is asked. Our new mis- 
tress, longing to get out of the kitchen and be saved trouble, 
crowds us with rapid orders. 

"There will be a pair of ducks for dinner. Do you know 
how to stuff ducks ?" 

" Yes m'm." 

"Put a great deal of summer-savory in — Mr. Smith is fond 
of it ; and be sure and have the gravy smooth. Potatoes, and 
tomatoes, and macaroni will be the vegetables. You can cook 
macaroni? " 

"Y — is — plaze m'm." 

" Don't forget the cheese for the top. It just spoils mac- 
aroni to leave out cheese. And for dessert we '11 have some 
sort of pudding. What kind can you make?" 

"I 'd be afther making bread-puddens oncet" — and we 
grin over the remembered accomplishment. 

" Bread-pudding ! oh, I don't fancy that. Make a plain 
rice-pudding — that's easy, I 'm sure. And have dinner at five, 
exactly, for Mr. Smith is very particular. I think that 's all. I 
shall be out, but Jane will tell you where things are if you 
don't know." 



''SHE.' 73 

Whereupon the new ''missus" sails away, leaving us to blank 
confusion. We do our best if we are a pretty well-disposed 
Bridget, but our best is very bad. The summer-savory goes 
into the pudding and the cheese on the ducks, potatoes are 
singed, the mysterious tomato drives us wild, the fowls — half 
raw, half burnt up — are put on the platter in the "now I lay 
me down to sleep" attitude, and reprobation loud and dire is 
heard from the upper regions. So it goes on day by day. We 
blunder, we destroy, we learn a very little and forget a great 
deal ; no one plans clearly, explains fully, or undertakes the 
educating process in our behalf Worse — there is an unkind 
side, which our warm heart feels and resents. "Followers" 
are forbidden in the kitchen. That seems hard ; but, harder 
yet, our female friends are darkly frowned on when they drop 
in. "I like a quiet kitchen," the "missus" says, — but above 
— a great deal of noise goes on in the parlor! There is no 
provision for our pleasures — no sympathy for our pains; we 
do not attach ourselves, we strike no roots in the unfriendly 
soil, and by and by it is easy, on some occasion of special 
discontent, to give the usual warning and remove to another 
place. As time goes on, habits of restlessness and discontent 
grow chronic ; one kitchen after another receives our afflicting 
ministrations, and we become the public pest, the ill-disposed, 
shifting, shiftless Irish servant. 

Now, suppose instead of this that we are so lucky as to 
make our efitree into American life in the household of a mis- 
tress sagacious enough to comprehend us and our ignorance, 
and unselfish enough to be willing to grapple wisely with both. 
Perceiving the perplexities of our new surroundings, she gives 
up some days to careful and patient explanation of the uses 
and places of things. She does not content herself wdth general 
orders, but goes into minute detail, as to a child, illustrating 
each with practical experiment. She practices us first on 
simple dishes, being exact as to the manner in which each is 
to be cooked and served ; when we fail she blames gently, and 
she never forgets to praise when we succeed. Day by day we 
feel that we are learning, and that heartens us. There is none 



74 HOME TOPICS. 

of the irritating '4et up, let down" system in her house; every 
rule is strictly enforced, but the rules include provision for our 
comfort and well-being as well as hers. She explains clearly 
and kindly why such and such things are prohibited or 
enforced. We see reason in what she says, and feel that the 
sway of a friend is over us. By and by sickness comes, or a 
bad letter from home, and then the mistress proves a real 
friend. We learn to love her, and our Irish hearts take hold 
of the new home. Then, and not till then, we become of real 
use to our employer, and, despite our oft stupidity and occa- 
sional tendency to sulk, a comfort and reliance. Other house- 
keepers marvel and speculate over Mrs. So-and-so's " knack 
with girls," but we could tell them what it is — simply observ- 
ance of the old-fashioned golden motto, '*Do as you would be 
done by," or that other, still more golden, ''Let every man 
look not on his own things, but on the things of another." 

And this is the moral code for all classes — and all pro- 
nouns — not for you and me merely. Not ourselves and 
yourselves, but Hkewise for it, for he, and himself, and for 
herself and — "She." 



MAIDS AND MISTRESSES. 

IT should be plain enough that examples are as much to 
servants as to children ; since in manners and social train- 
ing servants are as children. The peasant- girl reared in an 
Irish cabin or German cottage can hardly be expected to be a 
model of politeness or of personal neatness. It is quite possi- 
ble, however, to teach her by example alone. If the mistress 
be courteous to every member of her family, and they in turn 
to her, the maid soon feels the atmosphere of good breeding, 
and unconsciously becomes amiable and respectful. But let 
the mistress speak sharply to her husband, or scold the chil- 
dren in public, or let the master construitly find fault in the 



MAIDS AND MISTRESSES. 75 

presence of the servant, and she will shortly discover that cour- 
tesy is not one of the essentials of the establishment, and will, 
most likely, add black looks and uncivil words to the general 
disharmony. Servants being imitative, there is more reason 
that the conduct of employers be worthy of imitation. If the 
mistress of a house be careful of her dress, her speech, her 
daily habits, her handmaid will, in all probability, grow more 
careful of her own. But the woman who comes to her break- 
fast-table with disheveled hair and rumpled gown, has no right 
to find fault with the maid for attending the door-bell in a 
dirty calico and slovenly shoes. Like mistress hke maid, as 
well as like master like man. Unless a good example be set, 
there is no cause to complain of servants for following a bad 
one. As a rule they are ready to learn, though they may be 
dull and slow of comprehension. They would rather improve 
their condition than degrade it. They would rather be ladies 
than servants. Their ignorance makes them mistake the false 
for the true, the bad for the good. If every mistress would 
take pains to set a fair example to her maids, and aid them, 
now and then, by timely and dehcate hints, she would soon 
have servants who would be, in fact, the help they are in name. 



PART II. BOOKS AND EDUCATION. 



A TASTE FOR READING. 

MANY years ago an enthusiastic girl, whose name you 
never heard, deHberately set out to ''improve her mind." 
Bhndly and secretly groping about for the best way, she 
stumbled upon various maxims for the guidance of earnest 
young souls, and putting them all together, she adopted for 
herself a set of rules intended to correct all her faults and 
complete her education, and of which I will tell you only those 
which were to direct her reading. The first required her to 
rise at five o'clock, retire to a cold room in the third story, 
and read for two hours in some ** solid " work; and the second, 
never to read a second sentence until she understood the first. 
Dear me ! I see her now, poor struggling soul ! wrapped 
in a shawl, eyes half open, poring over ** Finney's Theology," 
the most solid book in her father's library. No one can ever 
know the tough wrestles she had with the ''Theory of 
Divine Government," and " Moral Obligation," nor the faith- 
fulness with which she adhered to the second rule, of under- 
standing each sentence — which often resulted, by the way, in 
limiting her reading to a single half-page in a morning. 




WHEN YOU 're writing OR READING OR SEWING, IT 'S RIGHT 
TO SIT, IF YOU CAN, WITH YOUR BACK TO THE LIGHT." 



A TASTE FOR READING. 77" 

Have you found out that you know very little? — that 
books are full of allusions totally dark to you ? Have you 
learned that graduating, even at a college, will not complete 
your education ? Do you long for cultivation ? Then to you 
I hold out my hands. Let us see if we cannot avoid the rocks 
that have wrecked so many honest endeavorers besides the girl 
of that far-off day with her Theology. 

For the first and greatest of these rocks — you will attempt 
too much. You will wake up to your needy condition sud- 
denly, perhaps, and looking over the biography of Franklin, or 
some one else who lived by rule, — or at least made rules to 
live by, — you will, if you 're an earnest soul, lay out for your- 
self such a code of laws, mental, moral, and physical, as an 
aged philosopher would find hard to live by. Eagerly you. 
will begin, and faithfully carry them out for a while ; but human, 
nature is weak, enthusiasm will die out, your lapses from rules 
will become more frequent, and you will fall back into the old 
careless life, discouraged ; perhaps resume your novel-reading,, 
and never advance beyond the shallow life you see about you 
and find so easy. 

My dear girl, don't be so hard with yourself Don't expect 
to jump from light novels to Carlyle, and to relish his bracing 
atmosphere. Do not begin with a book that requires the close 
attention of a student, and force yourself to read, yawning, 
with wandering mind and closing eyes. Do not open a dry 
history, beginning at the first chapter, resolved to read it 
through anyway. Never stint your sleep, nor freeze nor starve 
yourself All these are worse than useless ; they discourage 
you. A taste for solid reading must be cultivated, and books 
that are tedious at thirteen may be lamps to your feet at forty. 

There is an easier and better way. You need not despair 
of acquiring an interest in instructive reading, even if you have 
always read novels, have little time at your disposal, or have 
reached the age of gray hairs. It is never too late to begin to 
cultivate yourself 

Do not lay out in detail a "course of reading." Probably 
you would not follow it, and the moral effect of making a plan. 



78 HOME TOPICS. 

and giving it up is injurious. But there is another reason for 
my advice. When you become interested in a subject, then is 
the time to follow it up, and read everything you can get hold 
of about it. What you read when thus keenly interested you 
will remember and make your own, and that is the secret of 
acquiring knowledge : to study a thing when your mind is 
awake and eager to know more. No matter if it leads you 
away from the book with which you set out ; and if it sends 
you to another subject, so that you never again open the orig- 
inal book, so much the better; you are eager, you are learning, 
and the object of reading is to learn, not to get through a cer- 
tain number of books. 

''What we read with incHnation," said wise old Dr. John- 
son, '' makes a strong impression. What we read as a task is 
of little use." 

When you read a book that interests you, you naturally 
wish to know more of its author. That is the time to make 
his acquaintance. Read his life, or an account of him in an 
encyclopedia ; look over his other writings, and become famil- 
iar with him. Then you have really added something to your 
knowledge. If you fettered yourself with a ''course," you 
could not do this, and before you finished a book, you would 
have forgotten the special points which interested you as you 
went through. 

You think that history is dull reading, perhaps. I 'm 
afraid that is because you have a dull way of reading it, not 
realizing that it is a series of true and wonderful stories of 
men's lives, beyond comparison more marvelous and interest- 
ing than the fictitious lives we read in novels. The first pages 
are usually dry, I admit, and I advise you not to look at them 
till you feel a desire to do so ; but select some person, and fol- 
low out the story of his life, or some event, and read about that, 
and, I assure you, you will find a new life in the old books. 

After getting, in this way, a fragmentary acquaintance 
with a nation, its prominent men and striking events, you will 
doubtless feel anxious to know its whole story, and then, read- 
ing it with interest, you will remember what you read. 



A TASTE FOR READING. 79 

But there are other subjects in which you may be inter- 
ested. You wish first to know about the few great books and 
authors generally regarded and referred to as the fountain- 
heads of the world's literature. 

There are many well-known and often-quoted authors, 
concerning whom you will wish to be informed, even if you 
never^ read their works. You want to know when they lived 
and what they wrote. The world of books is too large for 
any one to know thoroughly ; you must select from the wide 
range what suits your taste, and be content to have an out- 
side, or title-page, knowledge of the rest. 

Above all, in your reading you want to avoid becoming 
narrow and one-sided. Read both sides of a question. If 
you read a eulogistic biography of a person, read also, if pos- 
sible, one written from an opposite stand-point. You will find 
that no one is wholly bad, nor wholly good, and you will 
grow broad in your views. 

But perhaps you don't know how to read by subjects. 
Let me tell you. Suppose you see an allusion to something 
that interests you — say Sir Walter Raleigh; look for his name 
in an encyclopedia or biographical dictionary (which you will 
find in every tolerable village library). Reading of him, you 
will become interested in Queen Elizabeth ; look her up, in the 
same books, and in English history ; observe the noted men 
of her reign, look them up, read their lives; read historical 
novels and poems of her times ; look at the table of contents 
of magazines and reviews, and read essays on the subject. 
You see the way open before you. Once make a start, 
and there is scarcely an end to the paths you will wish to 
follow. 

If you have no special subject of interest, take up an 
encyclopedia, slowly turn the leaves, and read any item that 
attracts you, not forcing yourself to read anything. If you 
have any life in you, you will find something to interest you ; 
then you have your subject. If it is some historical person 
or event, proceed as I have already indicated ; if scientific, 
overhaul the dictionaries of science, lives of scientific men, dis- 



8o HOME TOPICS. 

cussions of disputed points, etc. ; if geographical, turn to a 
gazetteer, books of travels, etc. One book will lead to another. 

Right here let me say, I hope you have access to these 
works of reference, either in your own house, or that of a 
friend, or at a public library. But if your case is the very 
worst — if you have none, cannot buy them, and have no 
public library in your neighborhood, let me advise you to 
drop everything else, and make it your sole and special 
mission to start one, either by influencing your parents and 
older friends, or by getting up a club of your mates. A strong 
will and earnest effort will accomplish wonders, and all older 
people are wiUing to help younger ones to useful tools. 

To return to your reading. Your memory is bad, perhaps 
— every one complains of that; but I can tell you two secrets 
that will cure the worst memory. One I mentioned above : to 
read a subject when strongly interested. The other is, to not 
only read, but think. When you have read a paragraph or a 
page, stop, close the book, and try to remember the ideas on 
that page, and not only recall them vaguely in your mind, but 
put them into words and speak them out. Faithfully follow 
these two rules, and you have the golden keys of knowledge. 
Besides inattentive reading, there are other things injurious to 
memory. One is the habit of skimming over newspapers, 
items of news, smart remarks, bits of information, political 
reflections, fashion notes, all in a confused jumble, never to be 
thought of again, thus diligently cultivating a habit of careless 
reading, hard to break. Another is the reading of trashy 
novels. Nothing is so fatal to reading with profit as the habit 
of running through story after story, and forgetting them as 
soon as read. I know a gray-haired woman, a life-long lover 
of books, who sadly declares that her mind has been ruined 
by such reading. 

A help to memory is repetition. Nothing is so certain to 
keep your P'^rcnch fresh, and ready for use, as to have always 
on hand an interesting story in that language, to take up for 
ten minutes every day. In that case, you will not '* forget 
your French" with the majority of your school-mates. 



TWO WAYS OF TEACHING AT HOME. 8 1 

A love of books, dear girls, Is one of the greatest comforts 
in life. No one can be wholly unhappy or solitary who pos- 
sesses it. From thoughtless youth to hoary age, books are a 
refreshment for the weary, society for the lonely, helpers for 
the weak. A taste for good reading is one of the best gifts 
in the world — better than beauty, almost better than health, 
and incalculably better than wealth. The pleasures of a com- 
fortably filled mind can never be estimated. 

In conclusion, let me beg that whatever you learn In books 
you will learn thoroughly. Content yourself with no smatter- 
ing surface acquaintance, but endeavor to thoroughly know 
and understand your subject, step by step, as you go on. 
Master one subject, and you have taken a long step toward a 
broad and cultivated womanhood. 



TWO WA VS OF TEA CHING A T HOME. 

ONE of the most perplexing hours of the day to the 
mother is when the children come to be '' helped with 
their lessons." It is useless for her to acknowledge that she 
has not kept pace wdth geography and history, and has forgot- 
ten her grammar and arithmetic. She knows that she ought 
to have kept pace with them ; that now and here the mother's 
duty calls her to work, and not to matters of frills, petticoats, 
or new hats. It is just as useless, too, for her to count the 
sums paid for the children's schooling, and declare that, after 
all, she Is their teacher. There is no doubting that fact. In 
all the public schools, and the majority of private ones, the 
children's lessons are simply recited in school, and must be 
studied and explained to them at home. The secret of this is, 
that very few teachers are In love with teaching. It is the 
worst paid of all professions ; so Ill-paid, that it usually serves 
In the lower grades as a make-shift, a stepping-stone to young 
6 



82 HOME TOPICS. 

men and women with other aims in view. As long as we pay- 
to our teachers lower wages than to our skilled cooks and 
seamstresses, we cannot blame them if they cram the children's 
heads with chaff of words, and leave us to give them the ideas. 
As we have their work to do, how are we to do it ? 

There are two ways. Little Mrs. B., a veritable descend- 
ant of Gradgrind, drills the children every night in their next 
day's lesson. She keeps them at work until they can repeat 
verbatim Latin and definitions and Bible texts. She will not 
bate a jot, neither irregular inflection nor river in Africa. 
Their eyes ache, and their heads bob, and so do hers ; but she 
holds them down to it, as she would a knife to a grindstone. 
Phil, who is a dull fellow in ordinary matters, rattles off the 
words as if they were marbles dropping out of the mill ; but 
that sharp little Bob is at the foot of his class. The words 
pass through his head like water through a sieve ; he declares 
there is no sense in them. Mrs. B. prognosticates a miserable 
failure in life for Bob ; he is the black sheep of the B. family, 
and of the school. Whereas the boy is simply lacking in the 
lowest kind of memory. 

His cousins, the Dodd boys, do not rank very much above 
him. Their mother holds them back ; will not let them be 
''promoted," or dragged through at high-pressure speed from 
class to class. " Fair and softly ! " she says to the principal. 
''Let us lay the foundations first." The principal thinks Mrs. 
Dodd a nuisance. He does not like women with opinions of 
their own. She insisted that the boys should be turned back 
to simple rules of arithmetic, instead of passing on to algebra. 
Meanwhile, in the evening she " keeps shop " with them, or 
market, or bank, provides them with quantities of home-made 
money, makes them buy, sell, make change, compute accounts, 
reckon interest, draw checks. She does not call it play ; they 
know it is work ; you never can hide a pill by sugar from a 
boy. But it is pleasanter than meaningless rules. And by 
and by the signification of the thing flashes on them, the 
reality, precision, inflexibility of figures, and the modes of 
handling them. 



TWO WAYS OF TEACHING AT HOME. 83 

When they are studying their geography their mother usu- 
ally is reminded of some odd incident or story which happened 
in the country to which the lesson relates. It is a very live 
story ; the people wear their native costume ; they are busied 
with their peculiar work. You see the scenery, buildings, feel 
the climate, as she talks; the boys are with the Tartar on his 
plain, the lazzaroni in Rome, the Polaris drifting over the Arc- 
tic Sea. Perhaps they quite fail in naming the peaks of the 
Andes next day, or the capes on the Pacific coast ; but they 
know a new country ; it is not a patch of yellow on the map ; 
they have talked with the people there, and they feel that the 
winds blowing on their faces come from it. 

Mrs. Dodd contrived a queer occupation for the boys when 
they began English history. For Joe, who has a passion for 
drawing and daubing in paints, she provided a mammoth 
blank-book, each enormous page labeled a century. On these 
Joe drew figures, giving his idea of the people, houses, and 
state of civilization in that century. You may be sure that 
Druids and oaks ; Boadicea, with her spear and yellow hair ; 
wolves, Alfred and his burned cakes, filled up the first pages 
with magnificent blotches of color. We confess that his zeal 
slackened as he came down to civilized times ; there were but 
two or three figures in a century, but their histories were as 
fixed in his head by his mother's repetition as those of Cinder- 
ella, or the great Jack himself. For Will, who had an odd 
skill in costume and dramatic effect, Mrs. Dodd contrived 
paper boxes, with the name of the century in great gilt letters. 
There, by the help of little figures, the Black Prince played his 
part, and Richard was himself again. The plan, with Mrs. 
Dodd's other plans, may seem trivial to our readers, as they 
did to the teacher. "Your facts are nails," she used to say. 
■** Iron nails. I only silver them over, and drive them in." 



84 HOME TOPICS. 

THE CULTIVATION OF LITERARY TASTE 
IN CHILDREN. 

DEAR : When I wrote you the other day, I said 
some things about the various ways in which Httle 
children can be educated long before they are old enough to 
go to school. Their literary taste, also, can be cultivated at a 
very early age. Now, don't misunderstand me, and say you 
don't like precocious children, hke Macaulay, for instance — for^ 
between you and me, I think he must have been an insuffer- 
able little "prig" if he did all the Avonderful things his ''Life" 
says he did. Children can learn to like the good things in 
our literature, and need not be confined to a mental diet of 
"Mother Goose." Not that I don't believe in "Mother 
Goose." Nothing ever can take the place of "Boy-Blue" 
and "Bo-peep." But because children like molasses candy, 
are they never to have beefsteak and bread ? And, en passant, 
let me suggest what an excellent basis "Mother Goose" makes 
for stories, when a mother's wits fail under the insatiable 
demands for "a story, a new one, something we have never 
heard before." Take "Jack Horner"; dress him up in a new 
name, and, with variations and details innumerable, a la Susan 
Coolidge, make a new story. You can even smuggle in a 
little moral about selfishness if you 're skillful, and then end by 
repeating the immortal verse, and the children's shouts of 
laughter will repay you for the exercise of your imagination. 
And here let me whisper what a help such a story is, when 
you 're doing disagreeable things, like washing their ears, or 
combing snarls out of their hair, at which even good children 
fret and twist about. 

But I was speaking of cultivating a child's literary taste. I 
know two little girls, aged seven and four, who, quite uncon- 
sciously, have made the acquaintance of some of the writings 
of our best poets, and find great delight in them, and are learn- 
ing to appreciate good things in a perfectly natural child-like 
way. The oldest was a very nervous, excitable child; It was 
almost impossible to quiet her to sleep, and she was very 



THE CULTIVATION OF LITERARY TASTE IN CHILDREN. 85 

wakeful at night. When she was about three years old, her 
mother began reading to her at bed-time some of those pretty 
httle pieces of poetry for children — such as are found in so 
many collections like ''Hymns and Rhymes for Home and 
School," "Our Baby," and the like, and found the rhythm so 
soothing to the child's restless nerves, that she committed 
several to memory, to use when the book was not at hand. 
She kept the little book or newspaper-scrap in her work- 
basket, and Avhen she was holding the baby or could do 
nothing else, she learned a stanza or two. She soon had quite 
a collection at her tongue's end, and now it is part of the bed- 
time routine for mamma to repeat one or two. The little 
rollicking four-year-old, a perfect embodiment of animal Hfe 
and spirits, generally calls for Tennyson's ''Sweet and low, wind 
of the Western sea," while the older one is charmed by Mary 
Howitt's pretty ballad of "Mabel on Midsummer Eve," — 
sweet, pure, good English, all of it. I watched the older 
child, as she stood at the window beside her mother one wild 
November morning, looking at the dead leaves whirhng in the 
wind, while the mother recited to her Bryant's lines, "The 
melancholy days are come." It was almost as good as the 
poem to see the child's gray eyes kindle with appreciation as 
she eagerly drank in the words. One can see the influence of 
this culture in the little songs they make up for their dollies, — 
a jingle and jargon, of course, but interspersed with remem- 
bered lines from their "little verses," and having withal a good 
deal of rhythm and movement about them. Their ear has 
been educated to a certain standard of appreciation, — just as 
German children who grow up in an atmosphere of good music 
find delight in harmonies which are hardly understood by our 
less cultivated American ears. Of course, you must carefully 
select beforehand to suit the children's minds, and must explain 
similes and allusions. 

On the other hand, if children's minds are so susceptible 
to good impressions, they are equally affected by bad ones. 
A child's world is made up of the things he has already 
learned ; and these things are conveyed to his mind by what 



86 HOME TOPICS. 

he has actually seen himself, or by pictures and stories of what 
he has not seen. His imagination is as quick to supply 
** missing Hnks" as the most enthusiastic Darwinian. What 
is n't there ought to be, so it 's all right. Whether he lives in 
a world peopled by distorted, horrible, unnatural objects, or in 
one full of all lovely and pleasant ones, depends very largely 
on the pictures he sees and the stories he hears. If his 
picture-books are of the hideous order, in which a blue- 
bearded monster holds a sword over an equally horrible pink- 
and-scarlet woman, you must expect him to wake at night 
from dreadful dreams, shrieking with terror, and imagining 
grotesque figures leering at him from every dark corner ; 
and much more so if he is allowed to hear ghost and hobgob- 
lin stories told by superstitious servant- girls. Besides this, if 
his ideas of art are built upon the basis of a Punch-and-Judy 
style of picture-books, agents' engravings, or newspaper and 
tea-store chromos, he must pass through a long course of 
training before he is capable of knowing what a good picture 
is, if, indeed, he ever does know. In these days of photo- 
graphs and beautiful children's books, there is no reason why 
people of even moderate means should not educate their 
children into something like a sense of artistic appreciation. 
Why, you can buy at any print-store a good photograph, 
neatly framed, of any of the great pictures of the world (the 
"San Sistine" cherubs, for instance) for a dollar. And yet 
how many people there are who would spend that money for 
Hamburg edgings without a thought, but would never dream 
of buying a good picture to hang on the nursery wall. 

Now, I can hear you say with a sigh, " Oh dear ! this all 
takes so much time and thought." Of course it does — so 
does everything that is good for anything. As to time, you 
have '* all there is " ; it depends only upon what you use it fon 
I feel almost like groaning when a young mother shows me 
some marvel of embroidery or machine-stitching, saying tri- 
umphandy, ** There, I did every stitch of that myself!" When 
will women learn that their time is worth too much, for better 
things, to be spent upon such trifles? It is really pitiful to 



THE CULTIVATION OF LITERARY TASTE IN CHILDREN. 8/ 

see a good, conscientious little mother resolutely shutting her- 
self away from so much that is best and sweetest in her 
children's lives, for the sake of tucking their dresses and ruf- 
fling their petticoats. How surprised and grieved she will be 
to find that her boys and girls, at sixteen, regard "mother" 
chiefly as a most excellent person to keep shirts in order and 
to make new dresses, and not as one to whom they care to 
go for social companionship ! Yet, before they are snubbed 
out of it by repeated rebuffs, such as **Run away — I 'm too 
busy to listen to your nonsense," children naturally go to their 
mothers with all their sorrows and pleasures ; and if ''mother" 
can only enter into all their little plans, how pleased they are ! 
Such a shout of delight as I heard last summer from Mrs. 
Friendly's croquet-ground, where her two little girls were 
playing : '' Oh, goody, goody — mamma is coming to play with 
us ! " She was a busy mother, too, and I know would have 
much preferred to use what few moments of recreation she 
could snatch for something more interesting than playing 
croquet with little children, not much taller than their mallets. 
She has often said to me, " I cannot let my children grow 
away from me — I must keep right along with them all the 
time; and whether it is croquet with the little ones, or Latin 
grammar and base-ball with the boys, or French dictation 
and sash-ribbons with the girls, I must be 'in it' as far as 
I can." 

But really the most diflicult part of all this is to think of 
it. We are so preoccupied with our cares and plans that we 
have n't " the heart at leisure from itself" thus even to sympa- 
thize with our children. We brood over Bridget's deficiencies 
and our plans for trimming Mary's dresses, to say nothing of 
heavier burdens, till our poor heads are half distracted. Yet if 
we could only lift ourselves above these thoughts into a clearer 
atmosphere while we are with the children, we would find our- 
selves refreshed when we go down into the fogs and mists 
again. It is the everlasting monotony of our work, the same 
things over and over every day, that wear upon us mentally 
quite as much as bodily. If we could only be strong enough 



88 HOME TOPICS. 

to make our intercourse with the children hft us out of the 
''ruts" of our dull planning and thinking, this culture of them 
would be a change and stimulus instead of an additional bur- 
den. (A change from saddle to harness often rests the galled 
horse, you know). We should find ourselves snatching little 
bits of time to look into encyclopedias and histories to see if 
our facts are correct ; brightening up rusty school-knowledge ; 
perhaps even turning into account our school-girl accomplish- 
ments of drawing, and music, and composition ; and certainly 
reading with some thought for the children, which of itself 
would supply the lack of purpose so usual in women's reading. 
The little we do is apt to be desultory and unsatisfactory — a 
hodge-podge of popular novels and the newspaper. We have 
so little time to read, we say, but we let slip five and ten 
minute chances, or waste them over some frivolous story, 
because we have n't or think we have n't any object to stimu- 
late us. Our husbands read and study in the direction of their 
business or professions, and their minds are constantly sharp- 
ened by the necessities of their daily work. Ours, if we are 
not careful, are narrowed by the necessary and important atten- 
tion to the detail of housekeeping, till we can talk an hour over 
the comparative advantages and disadvantages of Irish or 
colored help, or discuss "knife-plaiting" like philosophers ; but 

beyond that . Yet, I am confident of my sex's ability, and 

sure that there are a good many of us who Avish for better 
things, and if we could only once get into the way of it, would 
find ourselves accumulating knowledge and growing in culture 
from year to year, and that, too, without having dusty furni- 
ture, sour bread, or unmannerly children. Let the desire to 
cultivate and educate the children be an inspiration, and we '11 
find ourselves cultivated and educated by the same process. 

We shall find some things crowded out of our busy life, — 
we must have fewer clothes, less trimming, simpler cooking; 
but the mental furnishing of the family will be so much more 
complete. Hear what Gladstone says about man's work, and 
make the application to woman's: "To comprehend a man's 
life, it is necessary to know, not merely what he docs, but also 



OLD FRIENDS. 89 

what he purposely leaves undone. There is a limit to the 
work that can be got out of a human body or a human brain, 
and he is a wise man who wastes no energy on pursuits for 
which he is not fitted ; and he is still wiser who, from among 
the things that he can do well, chooses and resolutely follows 
the best." 

You will perceive that I have said nothing about religious 
education. I know so well how the joy and beauty of happy 
Christian living pervades your home that it does not seem 
necessary. A child cannot grow up in such an atmosphere 
without being religiously educated, any more than the morn- 
ing-glory can avoid taking color and beauty from the sun- 
beams which surround it. In a home like yours, where every 
one is courteous to every one else, — the children included, — 
the grace of politeness will become incorporated into a child's 
nature as a genuine, hearty unselfishness. 

Now, don't beguile yourself by thinking, "These things 
are well enough, but far beyond me now,™ when my boy is 
older I '11 begin." Your baby will be in college before you 
know it. Children have a curious way of growing older every 
week, and we must take them as well as old Father Time by 
the "forelock," if we are going to do much with them. 
Very sincerely your friend, 

Mary Blake. 



OLD FRIENDS. 

HERE they are in this old, low book-case, opposite the 
broad, sunny window — our books. 
I do not mean the family books, — poetry, history, novels, 
— ranged upon the shelves down-stairs, though many of them 
are my true friends now and will be my true friends always. I 
am speaking of those which were called, years ago, " The 
Children's Books," and which I love to-day because I loved 



90 HOME TOPICS. 

them then. Our books — for on many a merry Christmas they 
came to all of us, to Jeanie, Kate, and me. 

Let us see whether any of your friends and mine are the 
same. 

Poor old Robinson Crusoe ! I went through much sorrow 
for him. It was very safe and bright in our parlor, and I, a 
wee girl, sat close by mother's knee, and listened, with breath- 
less interest, while Kate read his story aloud ; but afterward, 
when I lay in my bed, in the dark, how my heart ached for 
him ! 

My dear Swiss Family Robinson ! You, in your old worn 
cover, call up only pleasant memories. Many an anxious 
thought you gave me, but never a throb of pain. My days on 
that island were all happy ones, and Fritz, and Jack, and Ernest 
could hardly have felt more interest than I in Tent House and 
Falcon's Nest. 

Here is Rosamond, — kind, good friend! — and "Sunbeam 
Stories," with the real heart's sunshine in them. 

How I used to deHght in these *' Wonderful Tales" ! Some- 
times when I see a pale flower fading, or one looking as though 
it had an exquisite secret hidden away in its rosy cup, or, in 
summer twilight, when a toad goes hopping by in his evening 
walk, I wish for Hans Christian Andersen to tell me their 
story. ''The Nightingale," ''The Ugly Duck," "The Little 
Mermaid" — they haunt my memory like strains of lovely 
music. 

My beautiful, loving Undine, and poor, sad Sintram ! Only 
just now, when the red light shone upon my wall, I thought of 
the Pilgrim's song. 

But we shall not have time to speak of all, though there are 
many that we might talk over ; so let us only take a few which 
I used to love the best. This book bears on its blank leaf: 
"Alice; from Father." Dear father, you little knew what you 
were bringing to your daughter, on that evening long ago 
when you brought home "Ministering Children" from town. 
You brought me happy hours among the green English fields 
and in the cottages of the villagers, for it was like living in the 



OLD FRIENDS. 9I 

beautiful quiet country with little Rose and Mercy ; pleasant 
times at the farm with Farmer Smith's family, sympathy in their 
troubles, and gladness on that glad day when William rode 
Black Beauty home. More than all, you brought me love for 
Herbert Clifford and his sister. When, in the still summer 
night, death came to the sweet young lady at the Hall, I felt as 
though my best friend, too, were gone. I mourned with the 
villagers ; my heart was very sore for Herbert. I did earnestly 
resolve that I would be a better girl, that I, too, would try and 
be a ministering child. If I failed sadly, the fault was in me, 
not ,in the pure, sweet book. I would have others read it, 
and do better. 

Do you not love "The Wide, Wide World"? I think 
some of the best influences of my life were breathed forth 
from those two faded green volumes. I wonder if you fol- 
lowed Ellen Montgomery through her trials and pleasures with 
the intense interest that I felt. My life had more sorrow than 
rejoicing when I was with her ; but the happy times were sa 
very happy, and I was content only to be with her, and Alice, 
and John. Oh ! did not Aunt Fortune make your blood boil 
many times, and did you not always feel a sense of glad 
release when, in the bright afternoon, the work was at last 
finished, and Ellen free to speed up the mountain-path to 
Alice ? Do you remember the visit to Mrs. Vawse, the walk 
home through the snow-storm, and the cheerful gleam of Mr. 
Van Brunt's lantern ? The Bee was as great a novelty to me 
as to Ellen, and Christmas at Ventnor seemed very pleasant ; 
but the lovely, quiet times at the Parsonage, in the sitting- 
room with the glass door — they were the happiest. 

In those old times, a story had to seem very real to brings 
the tears to my eyes, but, when the days of trouble came, I 
did cry with Ellen. I could not bear to have Alice die. The 
white house seemed very desolate without her. When the 
bitterness of many partings had been gone through, and Ellen 
was far away in Scotland, I, too, was homesick and heart-sick 
to think of the moonlight streaming through the glass door 
into the empty sitting-room. 



92 HOME TOPICS. 

My Ellen ! I thought I loved you truly. Why did I not 
love you well enough to follow then in your small footprints, 
•copy then your gentleness and patience, and try to do my duty 
as well as you did yours ? 

This worn, brown book in the corner is one of my truest 
friends. I never look at it without wishing that I were braver 
and better. I am sure you love it just as well as I ; I am sure 
you gave Tom Brown your warm and ready sympathy through 
all those " School Days," dark and bright. Through the perils 
and adventures which he and Harry East shared together, 
through the trials and victories of that better time, wjien, 
thanks to the Doctor and Arthur, "the tide turned," and Tom 
took the side of Right, up to the chapter in which, the brave 
and worthy captain of the Eleven, he plays his last match at 
Rugby. And were you not truly glad that he grew up such a 
noble fellow ? Did it not give you a tender and reverent 
admiration for Doctor Arnold ? Did you not sincerely thank 
Thomas Hughes for writing such a book ? 

Sometimes, when everything seems to be going wrong, 
and I feel tired and discouraged, if I chance to pass by the 
book-case, I stop and open the brown doors, and look, for 
a moment, at my friends standing quietly there. I need not 
take down a single volume ; the old backs speak to me. The 
beautiful old days come back to me. The voices that whis- 
pered to me then of lovely, lofty things, breathe to me now 
encouragement and cheer : *' Be strong ! Try again to be 
good." And I go down-stairs, feeling comforted. 

Dear, I want to say something to you. You read many 
books — Mrs. Whitney's, Miss Alcott's, and numberless others. 
If you would receive from them the good they have to give 
you, take the lessons they teach to yourself, into your own 
heart. Be good and pure, like Faith Gartney ; unselfish, like 
Leslie Goldthwaite; true to what you know to be right, 
like the Marches. Struggle with your faults as bravely as 
Tom Brown fought his school-foes first and his temptations 
afterward. It is, it must be, a struggle; but yOu can, if 
you ivill. 



THE HABIT OF READING. 93: 

Then, when you stand some day, as I do, before your old 
books, it will be with no sad thought of what might have 
been, if you had carried out the good impulses they awak- 
ened ; but gladly, gratefully, saying : '* They were true friends. 
They helped me to be good." 



THE HABIT OF READING. 

" T HAVE no time to read," is the common complaint, and 
-L especially of women, whose occupations are such as to 
prevent continuous book perusal. They seem to think, 
because they cannot devote as much attention to books as 
they are compelled to devote to their avocations, that they 
cannot read anything. But this is a great mistake. It is n't 
the books we finish at a sitting which always do us the most 
good. Those we devour in the odd moments, half a dozen 
pages at a time, often give us more satisfaction, and are 
more thoroughly digested, than those we make a particular 
effort to read. The men who have made their mark in the 
world have generally been the men who have in boyhood 
formed the habit of reading at every available moment, 
whether for five minutes or five hours. 

It is the habit of reading rather than the time at our com- 
mand that helps us on the road to learning. Many of the 
most cultivated persons, whose names have been famous as 
students, have given only two or three hours a day to their 
books. If we make use of spare minutes in the midst of our 
work, and read a little, if but a page or a paragraph, we shall 
find our brains quickened and our toil Hghtened by just so 
much increased satisfaction as the book gives us. Nothing 
helps along the monotonous daily round so much as fresh and 
striking thoughts, to be considered while our hands are busy. 
A new idea from a new volume is like oil which reduces the 



94 HOME TOPICS. 

friction of the machinery of Hfe. What we remember from 
brief ghmpses into books often serves as a stimulus to action, 
and becomes one of the most precious deposits in the treasury 
of our recollection. All knowledge is made up of small parts, 
which would seem insignificant in themselves, but which, taken 
together, are valuable weapons for the mind and substantial 
armor for the soul. " Read anything continuously," says Dr. 
Johnson, ''and you will be learned." The odd minutes which 
we are inclined to waste, if carefully availed of for instruc- 
tion, will, in the long run, make golden hours and golden 
•days that we shall be ever thankful for. 



A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS UPON THE 
EDUCATION OF WOMEN 

AS representatives of this wonderful century we are perpet- 
ually congratulating ourselves — in Pharisee fashion — 
upon our superiority. We find ourselves looking back upon 
the past of our grandmothers with a compassion not un- 
touched by scorn. It is not so much that we are holier than 
they — for holiness is, perhaps, just a trifle old-fashioned — but 
that we are so much wiser ! 

Our civilization has, indeed, carried us forward with gigan- 
tic strides in material things ; we have thousands of comforts, 
and luxuries, and even advantages undreamed of by our 
grandmothers ; but the stern question which circumstances, 
now and again, put to us is not merely : What do we pos- 
sess ? But rather : What are all these vast advantages making 
of us — individually and collectively? In the rush and strug- 
gle to have, are we not often losing sight of the old-fashioned 
virtue which resides in being? 

The most favorable conditions are not always, nor even 
generally, the softest. That physical regimen which develops 
the largest normal amount of thew and sinew, which pro- 



A woman's thoughts. 95 

duces the soundest physique and the steadiest nerves, is the 
best In just the same way, it is neither the large amount nor 
the deHcate quaHty of our mental nutriment which is going to 
make of us a race of intellectual giants. 

The education of boys and young men is undoubtedly less 
one-sided and narrowing now, than it was a hundred years 
ago. The introduction into school and college courses of the 
physical and natural sciences has, to a certain extent, dis- 
placed the classics. However essential a classical education 
may be, both because of the information and the discipline 
which it affords, the almost exclusive pursuit of such studies 
is undoubtedly stultifying. There has been a great multipli- 
cation of studies even in boys' schools, it is true ; but there is 
about a properly constituted boy a healthy animalism which 
•enables him to resist the forcing process so unmercifully used 
by the educators of the present day. 

With girls, the case is very different. The system bears 
more heavily, and the power of resistance is less. A girl, with 
a slighter muscular development, a more delicate nervous 
organization, is expected in four years to cover very nearly 
the same ground which is gone over by a boy in eight. The 
text-books, it is true, are not so difficult, and the course is less 
advanced ; but when girls' " accomplishments " are counted in, 
the niLinber of subjects is about the same. 

The consequence of all this is that a girl's study is far more 
superficial. Few teachers of experience will deny that while 
a bright girl will work harder and recite better than a boy of 
the same intelligence, the boy is far less easily satisfied with 
a mechanical way of learning. 

A lady who had had much experience in teaching both 
boys and girls, speaking of the extraordinary obtuseness of a 
certain pupil, said : 

" In a physiology class, this young lady of fifteen inquired 
with languid surprise, ' Is there not a straight passage through 
the head from one ear to the other?' — a somewhat natural 
conclusion," the teacher commented dryly, " if she had ever 
watched the processes of her own mind." 



96 HOME TOPICS. 

*' Which would you prefer teaching," asked a visitor, — 
" boys or girls ? " 

"Boys, infinitely," was the prompt reply. *' No boy, for 
instance, Avould ever have asked such a question as tJiat. He 
would long before have investigated the subject with a lead- 
pencil. Not, probably, in his own ears," she added, medita- 
tively, ''but in his younger brother's." 

The education of a girl is supposed to be finished when she 
is about eighteen. This makes it necessary that the heaviest 
pressure shall be brought to bear upon her just when she is 
growing most rapidly,* and when her physical system requires 
the most favorable conditions. The dangers of this high- 
pressure method do not lie so much in over-stimulation of 
the brain as in physical and nervous depression, with an 
abnormal distention of the memory, at the expense of the 
thinking powers. 

If the public mind could once be dispossessed of the stupid 
notion that education is a mere filling of the mind with facts 
and theories, and return to the noble old Greek idea of the 
gymnasium, there would be some hope of a radical reform. 
With boys this old notion is necessarily retained in a modified 
form : a boy is making ready for the battle of life. Whatever 
he learns either directly bears upon his chosen calling, or else 
indirectly by developing him and making a man of him, so that 
he may be strong at all points. But school, as affording a 
course of "training" for a girl, is an idea almost ludicrous. 
Girls go to school, not to be developed into reasonable, think- 
ing beings, but to have a certain amount of information im- 
parted to them, or, rather, " crammed " into them. 

The most vigorous mind can assimilate only a limited 
amount of mental nutriment in a given time. When too large 
a quantity is forced into the mind, the effect is analogous to 
that of overeating. The powers are overtaxed, and even the 
normal amount of nourishment is not healthfully and comfort- 
ably appropriated. 

As a matter of fact, do not our girls " go through " all the 
sciences, and some of the arts ; in their last three or four years 



EDUCATION IN EUROPE. 97 

at school do not they study literature, rhetoric, logic, and polit- 
ical economy ; natural, mental, and moral philosophy; physi- 
ology, chemistry, botany, geology, and astronomy ; geometry, 
algebra, and perhaps the trigonometries ; and with this one or 
two languages, and at least one accomplishment ? And yet, 
three years after she has left school, who ever expects from an 
ordinary young woman a sane opinion upon any subject con- 
nected with any of these topics ? The enormous mass has 
either never been taken in at all, or else it has been somehow 
gotten rid of, and the mind is in a state of collapse. Some 
women do survive the course, and come out with their think- 
ing powers not quite destroyed ; but that is due to an excep- 
tional vigor of mental constitution, and in spite of their 
teaching, rather than because of it. 

The fact that the majority of women teachers teach simply 
because they must do something, and can do nothing else so 
" lady-like," is left out of the account. The system, even with 
good, honest teaching, is a process of stultification. It ignores 
every law of growth and development ; it is founded on a false 
notion of the nature and end of education ; and thus is work- 
ing toward a mistaken end by unwisely chosen means. These 
strictures apply to the ordinary private-school system. Public 
schools, looking toward some practical application of what is 
taught, attempt less, and do what they attempt more thor- 
oughly. 



EDUCATION IN EUROPE, 

WE are forced, in this latter day of dawning American 
perception in the matter of culture, to compare the qual- 
ities which distinguish educated people at home and abroad, 
for we have, in the United States, so far left behind the primi- 
tive simplicity of our stay-at-home ancestors as to covet a 
place among the polished circles of the polite world. 

I do not refer to the ''great unwashed," which is about the 
same all Christendom over — perhaps a trifle better informed 
7 



98 HOME TOPICS. 

in Germany and the United States than elsewhere. But in our 
so-called upper classes, there is a restless movement toward 
something like the broad, easy cosmopolitanism of refined 
Europeans. It is a conceded fact that Americans, away from 
home influences, lose their provincialisms more quickly than 
most other people, probably because there is less force of 
gravity of dead-and-gone generations drawing them to their 
established centers. But this assimilation is often only in the 
mere superficial things of dress and manners, and as a nation 
we do not adopt the spirit of foreign languages as do Germans 
and Russians, or even Englishmen. Those last, it is true, 
speak the acquired tongues with that omnipresent English 
inflection which every American hopes to carry across the 
ocean for the amusement of his friends, but always finds he has 
lost on the steamer, and cannot possibly recover until he has 
again landed in Liverpool. 

Now, this failing of Americans to grasp practically a 
foreign tongue can be nothing more than the result of a mis- 
taken course of instruction. The education of the English girl 
so far differs from that of her overworked and under-taught 
transatlantic cousin, that I have been led to make the contrast 
a subject of much observation. 

For this reason, as well as to vitalize my poor pretense of 
American French, I entered as pupil one of the charming 
peiisionnats in Geneva. Perhaps nothing can so far go to 
prove the reality of the advantages opened by the European 
system as a brief sketch of life at Bois de Fey. I write, not 
from a gushing school-girl's stand-point, but from mature 
insight, as well as a critical analysis of results. The name 
of this school — if such one must call it, for want of a better 
English word — I should like to write in letters of gold for 
American girls to whom fortune has given the better part of 
''a finishing year" abroad, although it is but one of many such 
happy institutions on the Continent. 

To begin with, we number in our merry family four Eng- 
lish girls, sweet and serious and honest ; two or three Ameri- 
cans, whose chief disadvantage is in knowing less French than 



EDUCATION IN EUROPE. 99 

most of the others ; several Germans, who acquire the lan- 
guage with astonishing rapidity and speak it with great flexi- 
bility ; several French girls, all vivacity and excitability, after 
the manner of their nation ; one little girl from Bombay and 
one from Java, the complement being made up of Swiss. A 
heterogeneous family, but in an enviable state of assimilation. 
To say they are the happiest young people, out of their own 
homes, that I have ever seen, would give but an inadequate 
idea of their contentment. Perhaps, in contrast with the com- 
pulsory and monotonous school routine of American girls, 
they have too much liberty and make too little effort. At 
least, so it seemed to me at first. They were always in the 
garden, or on half-duty, I thought. But, now that I have 
fallen in with the varied round of occupations, I find that the 
demoiselles, for the most part, work quite as hard as though 
under stricter orders, and with this to us unknown difference: 
they study from pure interest in their subjects. To be sure, 
Mademoiselle gives a jeton for every correct answer, or bright 
idea, or careful translation, or success in composition, during 
the admirable two hours devoted to recitations. But it is not 
a spirit of emulation which makes students at Bois de Fey. I 
look back to the trials of my school-girlhood, and to some 
later experiences in the deep, narrow rut of a bleak New Eng- 
land boarding-school, and believe that there is nothing in 
America like these two morning hours in the cheerful salle 
d' etude at Bois de Fey. 

Around the long table (or some supplementary small 
tables, drawn cozily up) sit the girls, with their knitting or 
crocheting, or any light work which occupies the fingers with- 
out claiming the attention. At the head of the table, with the 
lesson-books for the day open before her, is Mademoiselle. 
After a chapter from the Bible and a simple prayer, which 
elevate this French Protestant school far above many of the 
fashionable academies in the United States, there is a special 
calling of names from a little blue book, wherein each young 
lady's name stands opposite to some simple household duty 
allotted to her, and to be performed before the ringing of the 



lOO HOME TOPICS. 

bell, at ten o'clock. One is to dust the pianos, one to arrange 
the flowers, one to see that the fire is properly replenished, 
one to look after the games that are to be replaced, one to 
keep the book-shelves in order, etc. These performances be- 
ing commended or disapproved, the exercises begin. 

First, there are several rounds of spelling ; then synonyms 
are demanded for the words, — both excellent discipline in aid- 
ing the foreigner to acquire a French vocabulary. Then sen- 
tences are read, or improvised, in which the same words are 
employed, — and they must be well employed to please the 
fastidious ear of Mile. P. This leads naturally into grammar 
and composition, after which comes an entertaining lecture on 
geology, botany, or physiology from Mademoiselle, whose 
French is pure and fluent, and who requires well-expressed 
notes written upon her remarks. The history and literature of 
different countries follow, and a few rapid rounds of general 
questions close the recitations. Of course there is a German 
teacher for the French and English girls, an English class for 
the German and French girls, and a master of mathematics for 
all. But the charm of the home is the liberal instruction of 
its kind and cultivated mistress. 

But there are other methods of educating girls in Europe 
which are even farther removed from the '' mechanical way of 
learning " prevalent in American schools. Perhaps nothing 
appears, upon first view, more superficial and nomadic than the 
course pursued by many an English mother in the " training " 
of her daughters. And yet the English girl whom one encoun- 
ters everywhere in Europe is a refreshing example of versatile 
culture. She is not " crammed," but is genuinely cultivated. 
This involves a more liberal process of imparting many-phased 
information than is possible in our first-class schools where 
the cramming system is in vogue. I am afraid to turn the leaf 
back, somewhere prior to my first European experiences, and 
recall all the things which I studied, in common with sixty or 
seventy-five other overtaxed young ladies. Although pos- 
sessed of as many different inclinations or capacities, we were 
reduced to one striving, undiscriminating mass. All day, and 



EDUCATION IN EUROPE. lOI 

sometimes half the night, we labored and strove — for what? 
For perfect recitations and a high standing in our class, at best. 
I do not believe we ever had a rational conception of why we 
studied, of the means of cultivation professedly within our 
reach, or of the use or tendency of any branch of mental 
application. 

It was all one nebulous effort ; and the ability to acquire 
each individual lesson was a sort of necromancy which had to 
be worked by a special evoking of the sensitive and easily 
excited memory. . I do not think we were stupid ; but this I 
know, that most of the information supposed to have been 
absorbed during the school term each year became in the 
summer a vague blur of incoherent impressions, — a chaos of 
irretrievably mixed dialectics and hopelessly misplaced facts. 

Ah, well ! it is not worth while to call up the slowly van- 
ishing phantoms of buried school-books. Doubtless, every 
** finished" girl in America experiences the same retrospective 
amazement in contemplating, from the perihelion of graduating 
day, the immense " ground " she has gone over in her brief 
scholastic orbit. Of course there are, here and there, sturdy 
feminine organizations which, when coupled with clear intel- 
lects, come unexhausted from the race. But nearly always 
the female constitution is incapable of that prolonged nerv- 
ous strain called by your correspondent "' the high-pressure 
method." 

But these English maidens, who dwell in green pastures of 
Europe, and lie down by the still waters of culture! — how 
does their ideal education come to them? By work, assuredly; 
but also by perpetual variety and refreshing contact. 

They often begin life with a French governess at home. 
When they have outgrown their nurseries, a systematic course 
of travel and languages follows. Mamma gathers her sons and 
daughters under her wing and goes to the Continent. Here, 
perhaps, the girl begins with a good German school, her sum- 
mer holidays among the mountains of Switzerland or the lakes 
of Italy being pervaded by a ubiquitous German flavor, induced 
by the presence of a companion, until she is so thoroughly 



I02 HOME TOPICS. 

acquainted with the language that she can read, write, and speak 
it, — even think and dream in it. After that, she is poHshed 
afresh by a French governess, whose quick ear and eye no 
English word nor gesture is permitted to escape. A winter 
in Italy, amid the refining influences of Rome or Florence, it 
may be, completes this graceful training; and then the maiden 
is ready to be chaperoned by her capable mamma into a society 
where her acquired tongues are not dead languages, as they 
are apt to be in the drawing-rooms of well-bred America. 

It seems to me, however, that the school-plan, observed in 
this GiexieYd.w pensionnat^ is the best; for the governess, with all 
her personal surveillance, makes a slower impression upon the 
intelligence than does contact with other young minds in the 
same strait To be obliged to recite side by side with French- 
speaking associates lends a glibness, first from mere imitation, 
then from habit. And it perpetually stirs up the spirit to 
renewed energy, as the girl is thrown among all the multiform 
requirements of a little French world such as this. The speech 
becomes a part of the occasion. I think this home phase of 
Bois de Fey will rise before me whenever I hear the diplomatic 
tongue in America, bringing with it the cozy breakfast freedom, 
the chatter of lunch, the merriment of the prolonged dinner, 
— all the pleasant, girlish talk; and, above all, the kind and 
ever cheerful presence of Mile. Pradez. 



THE YOUNG FOLKS' STUDY-HOUR. 

WHEN are the children to study their lessons ? After 
school is out and dinner is over there is but little time 
before dark for them to exercise in the open air, and this exer- 
cise should be firmly insisted upon. On the other hand, the 
mornings are short and dark, and if any home-study is done, 
it is generally at night. It is this night-study that is bad for 
the tired bodies and brains, and that brings the nervous 
manner and the unquiet sleep. 



THE YOUNG FOLKS' STUDY-HOUR. IO3 

How to help the children so their studying may be a pleas- 
ure rather than a constant weariness, becomes a serious ques- 
tion for the most of us. From my own experience, I find the 
following plan answers well : 

Let the children have one hour or more after the gas is lit; 
but at eight o'clock precisely send them to bed, with the prom- 
ise that you will call them at six in the morning. Do not 
allow them to have the waking up on their own minds. This 
would disturb their sleep, which ought to be free from care. 
To do away with the darkness and the oppressive stillness of 
the house before day, rise instantly at the sound of the alarm- 
clock, light the gas, and put a match to a small lot of wood on 
the hearth. (My boys take turns in bringing up and arranging 
this wood the day before, their aim being so to lay the sticks 
and splinters that they will instantly burn on the application of 
a lighted match.) When the fire is well under way, call the 
boys. Expecting light and heat and cheerfulness, they will 
come down with alacrity, — the only trouble then being to 
get them dressed, for turning over the logs and picking up the 
hot coals are more pleasant than pulling on shoes and stock- 
ings. The gloomier and colder the morning, the more pleasant 
it is, and the more hilarious the children become. While they 
are dressing and playing, get ready a cup of something hot for 
them to drink. I prefer beef-tea, but I vary it with chocolate or 
coffee, made five-sixths of boiling milk. Cold milk does not 
cheer them like something hot. To boil the milk for the coffee 
or chocolate takes only a few moments. I put the tin cup 
upon a little fixture called the '' Pet," that fits over any com- 
mon gas-burner, and costs but thirty cents. This will heat 
without burning or smoking the cup. After they have taken 
their hot drink and eaten a cracker or two, the boys will be 
ready for their books. In one hour now they can do more 
hard work, and do it with more cheerfulness and courage, than 
at any other time of day. 

Now see how little it costs, all this pleasure. For the best 
hickory- wood I have just paid $7.25 the cord, $1.50 for haul- 
ing it to the house, $1.00 for sawing once, and 50 cents for 



I04 HOME TOPICS. 

piling in the cellar. For this morning fire, I had one cord 
sawed into three pieces, which made its cost $11.25. ^^ this 
fire only burns till eight or nine o'clock, the one cord may last 
the whole winter. Even if it uses two cords, how else can so 
much comfort be had from so small a sum ? yiave been told 
that in New York City hickory- wood can be bought for the 
same price as pine, because there is so little demand for it. 
Outside of the cities, the cost of the wood would hardly be a 
consideration. Even if the use of it hghtens the purse, it will 
just as surely lighten children's hearts and clear their brains. 



THE OPEN BOOK. 

ONE of the first things provided for in house-furnishing 
should be the dictionary. Let it have a stand or table 
of its own, where nothing ever need be placed upon its open 
pages. A sloping shelf, either fastened as a bracket to the 
wall, or, better still, on an upright stem and solid base, will 
help the little ones to remember not to load it with their valu- 
ables. To it every child in the family should be directed for 
the many little bits of information which they are continually 
interrupting older people to ask for. A heavy dictionary in a 
book-case, low down as such heavy books always are, com.es 
to be of little practical use, but a book always lying open, 
frankly inviting the passer-by to take a sip of knowledge on 
the wing, as it were, is a perennial fountain of information, and 
has more to do with developing the real intelligence and 
mental activity of a family of children than many expensive 
lessons, and much wearisome study. A first-class unabridged 
dictionary, besides the spelling, definitions, or derivations of 
words, contains in its appendix a large and generally unsus- 
pected fund of biographical, geographical, scientific, and 
literary information. Then there is the small chapter on 




"TELL US A STORY ABOUT IT." 



WHAT OUR BOYS ARE READING. 105 

scientific and musical hieroglyphics, and the valuable direc- 
tions for proof correction. These are especially to be com- 
mended, for young writers are often at a loss to know how to 
correct their proof, and editors and printers are mystified in 
attempting to follow the corrections. 

In spite of the objection that it changes the subject too 
often, a good dictionary affords wonderfully interesting read- 
ing. One curious fact affords a comment upon its use — it 
is the intelligent, the thinking, the reading people who use 
dictionaries, and not the ignoramuses. 



WHAT OUR BOYS ARE READING. 

FEW gentlemen, who have occasion to visit news offices, can 
have failed to notice the periodical Hterature for boys 
which has been growing up during the last few years. The 
increase in the number of these papers and magazines, and 
the appearance, from time to time, of new ones, which, to 
judge by the pictures, are always worse than the old, seem to 
indicate that they find a wide market. Moreover, they appear 
not only among the idle and vicious boys in great cities, but 
also among school-boys whose parents are careful about the 
influences brought to bear on their children. No student of 
social phenomena can pass with neglect facts of this kind — 
so practical and so important in their possible effects on 
society. 

The writer was confirmed in the determination to examine 
this literature by happening to observe, last summer, the 
eagerness with which some of these papers were read, and the 
apparent familiarity with which they were discussed, by a 
number of boys, who seemed to be returning from boarding- 
school, and to belong to families which enjoy good social 
advantages. The number of copies examined for the present 



I06 HOME TOPICS. 

purpose was not large, but they were taken at random, and 
from all the different periodicals to be found. 

These periodicals contain stories, songs, mock speeches, 
and negro minstrel dialogues, — and nothing else. The literary 
material is either intensely stupid, or spiced to the highest 
degree with sensation. The stories are about hunting, Indian 
warfare, California desperado life, pirates, wild sea adventure, 
highwaymen, crimes and horrible accidents, horrors (tortures 
and snake stories), gamblers, practical jokes, the life of vaga- 
bond boys, and the wild behavior of dissipated boys in great 
cities. This catalogue is exhaustive. There are no other stories. 
The dialogue is short, sharp, and continuous. It is broken by 
the minimum of description and by no preaching. It is almost 
entirely in slang of the most exaggerated kind, and of every 
variety, — that of the sea, of California, and of the Bowery; 
of negroes, "Dutchmen," Yankees, Chinese, and Indians, to 
say nothing of that of a score of the most irregular and 
questionable occupations ever followed by men. When the 
stories even nominally treat of school-life, they say nothing of 
school-X\iQ, There is simply a succession of practical jokes, 
mischief, outrages, heroic but impossible feats, fighting, and 
horrors, but nothing about the business of school, any more 
than if the house in which the boys live were a summer 
boarding-house. The sensational incidents in these stories are 
introduced by force, apparently for the mere purpose of pro- 
ducing a highly spiced mixture. One of the school stories 
before us has a ''local color" which is purely English, 
although the names are Americanized. The mixture is ridic- 
ulous in the extreme. The hero is the son of a " country 
gentleman" of Ohio, and comes to school with an old drunk- 
ard, "ex-butler" of the Ohio country gentleman, whom he 
allows to join him, at the Grand Central Depot. This scandal- 
ous old rascal is kept in the story, apparently because an old 
drunkard is either a good instrument or a good victim for 
practical jokes. The hero goes to dine with a gentleman 
whose place, near the school, is called the " Priory." While 
waiting for dinner he goes out for a stroll in the " Park." He 



WHAT OUR BOYS ARE READING. I07 

rescues a girl from drowning, sends back to school for another 
suit of clothes, goes out again and takes a ride on a bison, is 
thrown off, strikes, in falling, a professor, who is fortunately 
fat enough to break his fall; goes to the ''snake house" with 
the professor, is fascinated by the rattlesnake, which gets 
loose, seizes the reptile and throws it away after it has bitten 
through the professor's trowsers — all before dinner. All the 
teachers, of course, are sneaks and blackguards. In this same 
story, one of the assistant teachers (usher, he is called) gets 
drunk and insults the principal, whereupon the latter holds the 
nozzle, while he directs some of the boys to work a garden 
pump, and throws water on the assistant, who lies helplessly 
drunk on the grass, — all of which is enforced by a picture. 
There is not a decent good boy in the story. There is not 
even the old type of sneaking good boy. The sneaks and 
bullies are all despicable in the extreme. The heroes are 
continually devising mischief which is mean and cruel, but 
which is here represented as smart and funny. They all have 
a dare-devil character, and brave the principal's rod as one of 
the smallest dangers of life. There is a great deal of the 
traditional English brutality in exaggerated forms. The 
nearest approach to anything respectable is that after another 
boy has been whipped for mischief done by the hero, the 
latter tells his friend that they ought to have confessed, but 
the friend replies with the crushing rejoinder that then there 
would only have been three flogged instead of one. 

Another type of hero very common in these stories is 
the city youth, son of a rich father, who does not give his 
son as much pocket-money as the latter considers suitable. 
This constitutes stinginess on the father's part, although it 
might be considered pardonable, seeing that these young men 
drink champagne every day, treat the crowd generally when 
they drink, and play billiards for a hundred dollars a game. 
The father, in this class of stories, is represented as secretly 
vicious and hypocritically pious. In the specimen of this class 
before us, the young man is ''discovered" in the Police Court 
as a prisoner, whence he is remanded to the Tombs. He has 



I08 HOME TOPICS. 

been arrested for collaring a big policeman, to prevent him 
from overtaking a girl charged with pocket-picking. He 
interfered because he judged from the girl's face that she was 
innocent, and it is suggested, for future development in the 
story, that she was running away from insult, and that the 
cry of ''stop thief" was to get help from the police and 
others to seize her. The hero, who is the son of a man 
worth five millions, and who is in prison under an assumed 
name, now sends for his father's clerk and demands one 
thousand dollars, saying that otherwise he will declare his 
real name and disgrace his family. He gets the money. He 
then sends for a notorious Tombs lawyer, to whom he gives 
five hundred dollars. With this sum his release is easily 
procured. He then starts with his cousin to initiate the latter 
into life in New York. They go to a thieves' college, where 
they see a young fellow graduated. His part consists in taking 
things from the pockets of a hanging figure, to the garments 
of which bells are attached, without causing the bells to ring. 
Of this a full-page illustration is given. The two young men 
then go up the Bowery to a beer-saloon, where the hero 
sustains his character by his vulgar familiarity with the girl 
waiters. Next, they hear a row in a side street. They find 
a crowd collected watching a woman who hangs from a third- 
story window, while her drunken husband beats and cuts her 
hands to make her fall. The hero solves this situation by 
drawing his revolver and shooting the man. As he and his 
companion withdraw unobserved, the former wards off the 
compliments of the latter by saying modestly that he could 
not bear to stand there and see such a crowd looking on, and 
not knowing what to do, so he just did the proper thing. 
Next day the hero, meeting the thieves'-college graduate in 
the corridor of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, agrees to receive and 
hold for him any booty he may seize in the bar-room; which 
he does. At night he and his friend go to a disreputable 
masked ball, where the hero recognizes his father in disguise 
among the dancers. Securing a place in the same set, during 
a pause in the dance he snatches the mask from his own face 



WHAT OUR BOYS ARE READING. 109 

and his father's at the same moment. This edifying incident is 
enforced by a full-page illustration. A friend suggests the 
question, What demon of truthfulness makes the artist put 
such brutal and vulgar faces on the men ? In this class of 
stories, fathers and sons are represented as natural enemies, 
and the true position for the son is that of suspicion and 
armed peace. 

Another type of hero who figures largely in these stories is 
the vagabond boy, in the streets of a great city, in the Rocky 
Mountains, or at sea. Sometimes he has some cleverness in 
singing, or dancing, or ventriloquism, or negro acting, and he 
gains a precarious living while roving about. This vagabond 
life of adventure is represented as interesting and enticing, and, 
when the hero rises from vagabond life to flash life, that is 
represented as success. Respectable home life, on the other 
hand, is not depicted at all, and is only referred to as stupid 
and below the ambition of a clever youth. Industry and 
economy in some regular pursuit, or in study, are never 
mentioned at all. Generosity does not consist in even luxu- 
rious expenditure, but in wasting money. The type seems 
to be that of the gambler, one day ''flush" and wasteful, 
another day ruined and in misery. 

There is another type of boy who sometimes furnishes the 
hero of a story, but who also figures more or less in all of 
them. That is the imp of mischief, — the sort of boy who is 
an intolerable nuisance to the neighborhood. The stories are 
told from the stand-point of the boy, so that he seems to be a 
fine fellow, and all the world, which is against him, is unjust 
and overbearing. His father, the immediate representative of 
society, executes its judgments with the rod, which again is an 
insult to the high-spirited youth, and produces on his side 
either open war, or a dignified retreat to some distant region. 
Here is a story, for instance, of a boy who was left in charge 
of a country grocery store. To amuse his leisure, he takes 
a lump of butter from the stock and greases the platform in 
front of the store. Several village characters, among them 
an old maid, the parson, and the squire, come to perform on 



no HOME TOPICS. 

this arena for the amusement of the youth and one or two of 
his friends. While the squire is trying to get up or get off the 
platform, the owner of the grocery returns, and he and the 
squire have a fight on the grass-plot over the question whether 
the grocer greased his own platform or not. Next comes 
Nemesis in the shape of the boy's father. The conversation 
between these two and the denouement may be worth 
quoting. In the soliloquy at the end there seems to be a 
reminiscence of Fisk. 

'* 'James,' said he, 'you are breaking my heart with your incorrigible 
conduct.' 

"*Is dat a chowder-gag?' calmly inquired Jimmy. 

"'Slang — slang, always slang!' groaned his father. 'James, will you 
never reform?' 

"'Don't wanter; I 'm good enough now.' 

'"Think of what you might be — a pattern boy, a 

"'Brass-bound angel, silver-plated cherub, little tin missionary on 
rollers,' put in Jimmy, apparently in confidence to a fly on the ceiling. 

"'Actually sassing his protector,' the deacon said. 'Oh, James, you 
wicked son of Belial ! ' 

'"Pop's name was Dennis, and he was a short-haired Cincinnati ham,' 
indignantly corrected Jimmy. 'I don't know anybody named Belial.' 

"The deacon made a horrified mouth. 

'"Will you never hearken in quietude and meekness of spirit to words 
of reproval and advice ? ' said he. 

'"Darned sight ruther listen to funny stories,' muttered Jimmy. 

" 'You are hopeless,' sighed the deacon, 'and I shall have to chas- 
tise you.' 

" 'Dat means a week's soreness,' Jimmy reflected; then he changed his 
tune. ' Let me off this time, dad, and I '11 be the best boy you ever saw 
after dis. Stay in nights, stop chewing tobacco, clean my teeth every 
morning, and welt the life out of anybody dat wont say their prayers reg- 
ular and go to church every day in the week.' 

" The deacon nodded his head the wrong way. 

" 'You can't play that on the old man again,' he said; 'it's lost its 
varnish, it 's played out. Step up, my son.' 

" Unwillingly Jimmy stepped up. 

"In a moment he was stepping up more than ever, for the deacon was 
pelting him all over with a stout switch, which felt the reverse of agreeable. 

" But finally he was released, and crawled dolefully up to bed. 

"There are things nicer than going to bed at four o'clock on a bright, 
breezy, fall day, and Jimmy knew so. 



WHAT OUR BOYS ARE READING. Ill 

*' ' This here is getting awful stale,' he meditated, rolling and tossing in 
his cot, ' and you can smother me with fish-cakes if I stand it. I 'm going 
to run away, and come back to dis old one-hoss town when I 'm a man, in 
a gold band-wagon with silver wheels and six Maltese mules a-drawing it. 
Probably the old man will be in the poor-house then, swallerin' shadow 
soup with an iron spoon, and it will make him cranky to think dat he 
did n't used ter let me have my own way and boss things. Yes, by golly, 
I '11 give him the sublime skip. ' " 

The songs and dialogues are almost all utterly stupid. The 
dialogues depend for any interest they have on the most vapid 
kind of negro-minstrel buffoonery. The songs, without having 
any distinct character, seem often to be calculated to win ap- 
plause from tramps and rioters. The verse, of all before us, 
which has the most point to it, is the following. What the 
point is, requires no elucidation : 

" Boss Tweed is a man most talked about now, 
His departure last winter caused a great row; 
Of course we all knew it was not a square game, 
But show me the man who would not do the same. 

"When Sweeney, Genet, and Dick Connolly took flight, 
He stood here alone and made a good fight; 
He did wrong, but when poor men were greatly in need 
The first to assist them was William M. Tweed." 

These stories are not markedly profane, and they are not 
obscene. They are indescribably vulgar. They represent 
boys as engaging all the time in the rowdy type of drinking. 
The heroes are either swaggering, vulgar swells, of the rowdy 
style, or they are in the vagabond mass below the rowdy 
swell. They are continually associating with criminals, gam- 
blers, and low people who live by their wits. The theater 
of the stories is always disreputable. The proceedings and 
methods of persons of the criminal and disreputable classes, 
who appear in the stories, are all described in detail. The boy 
reader obtains a theoretical and literary acquaintance with 
methods of fraud and crime. Sometimes drunkenness is rep- 
resented in its disgrace and misery, but generally drinking is 
represented as jolly and entertaining, and there is no sugges- 
tion that boys who act as the boys in these stories do ever 



112 HOME TOPICS. 

have to pay any penalty for it in after life. The persons who 
are held up to admiration are the heroes and heroines of bar- 
rooms, concert-saloons, variety theaters, and negro minstrel 
troupes. 

From the specimens which we have examined, we may 
generalize the following in regard to the views of life which 
these stories inculcate, and the code of morals and manners 
which they teach : 

The first thing which a boy ought to acquire is physical 
strength for fighting purposes. The feats of strength per- 
formed by these youngsters, in combat with men and animals, 
are ridiculous in the extreme. In regard to details, the sup- 
posed code of English brutality prevails, especially in the 
stories which have English local color, but it is always mixed 
with the code of the revolver, and, in many of the stories, the 
latter is taught in its fullness. These youngsters generally 
carry revolvers and use them at their good discretion. Every 
youth who aspires to manliness ought to get and carry a 
revolver. 

A boy ought to cheat the penurious father who does not 
give him as much money as he finds necessary, and ought to 
compel him to pay. A good way to force him to pay liber- 
ally, and at the same time to stop criticising his son's habits, 
is to find out his own vices (he always has some) and then to 
levy black-mail on him. 

Every boy, who does not want to be ''green" and "soft," 
ought to "see the elephant." All fine manly young fellows 
are familiar with the actors and singers at variety theaters, and 
the girl waiters at concert-saloons. 

As to drinking, the bar-room code is taught. The boys 
stop in at bar-rooms all along the street, swallow drinks stand- 
ing or leaning with rowdy grace on the bar. They treat and 
are treated, and consider it insulting to refuse or to be refused. 
The good fellows meet every one on a footing of equality — 
above all in a bar-room. 

Quiet home life is stupid and unmanly. Boys brought up 
in it never know the world or life. They have to work hard 



WHAT OUR BOYS ARE READING. II3 

and to bow down to false doctrines which parsons and teach- 
ers, in league with parents, have invented against boys. To 
become a true man, a boy must break with respectabihty and 
join the vagabonds and the swell mob. 

No fine young fellow, who knows life, need mind the law, 
still less the police. The latter are all stupid louts. ' If a 
boy's father is rich and he has money, he can easily find 
smart lawyers (advertisement gratis) who can get the boy out 
of prison, and will dine with him at Delmonico's afterward. 
The sympathies of a manly young fellow are with criminals 
against the law, and he conceals crime when he can. 

Whatever good or ill happens to a young man, he should 
always be gay. The only ills in question are physical pain or 
lack of money. These should be borne with gayety and 
indifference, but should not alter the philosophy of life. 

As to the rod, it is not so easy to generalize. Teachers 
and parents, in these stories, act faithfully up to Solomon's 
precept. When a father flogs his son, the true doctrine seems 
to be that the son should run away and seek a life of advent- 
ure. When he does this he has no difficulty in finding 
friends, or in living by his wits, so that he makes money, and 
comes back rich and glorious, to find his father in the poor- 
house. 

These periodicals seem to be intended for boys from twelve 
to sixteen years of age, although they often treat of older per- 
sons. Probably many boys outgrow them and come to see 
the folly and falsehood of them. It is impossible, however, 
that so much corruption should be afloat and not exert some 
influence. We say nothing of the great harm which is done 
to boys of that age, by the nervous excitement of reading 
harrowing and sensational stories, because the literature before 
us only participates in that harm with other literature of far 
higher pretensions. But what we have said sufifices to show 
that these papers poison boys' minds with views of life which 
are so base and false as to destroy all manliness and all 
chances of true success. How far they are read by boys of 
good home influences we are, of course, unable to say. They 
8 



114 HOME TOPICS. 

certainly are within the reach of all. They can be easily 
obtained, and easily concealed, and it is a question for parents 
and teachers how far this is done. Persons under those 
responsibilities ought certainly to know what the character of 
this literature is. 



HINTS ON EDUCATION. 

AS a child grows older, and his intellectual nature begins 
to wake up, his endless ''why?" and "what for?" are the 
keys with which he unlocks the hidden treasures of the strange 
world he has come to live in. As Tennyson says : 

" In children a great curiousness is well 
Who have themselves to learn, and all the world." 

I doubt if we always think of that when their irrepressible 
curiosity drives us almost distracted. When he comes running 
to you with some queer thing or other he has found, or asks 
you why you do this or don't do that, you may be sure that 
his perceptive faculties are beginning to stir themselves. Tire- 
some as his questions are, they show that his mind is wide- 
awake and ready to receive on that subject at least. A ques- 
tion he asks you, all eagerness to hear your answer, is worth 
twenty you ask him sometime when he does n't care a fig about 
it. Parents often persistently snub their children and *' shut 
them up" for six or eight years, and then wonder why teachers 
never can get them to ''open out" again. "Such teachers!" 
they say ; " the children don't take the least interest in their 
lessons," never thinking that they did their best to take all the 
edge off their minds before they sent them to school to be 
"sharpened up." Even if the subject is one quite beyond your 
boy, and he can't understand your answer very well, the fact 
that he knows something about it will prepare his mind for a 
clearer understanding- of it the next time he meets it. Of 



HINTS ON EDUCATION. II 5 

course, it is of the first importance that your explanation shall 
be correct as far as it goes. Besides this, it is a source of great 
comfort to a child to feel that his parents care enough about 
what interests him to talk with him about it. May not the 
decrease of confidence which parents complain of in their 
grown-up children have its beginnings in the days of childhood, 
when neither father nor mother could spend time to answer 
their questions, and other people did ? 

In addition to teaching him about the things he naturally 
notices himself, you wish to show him how to keep his eyes 
and ears open to everything about him. His senses are his 
teachers, and the things he sees and touches are what interest 
him first. If his senses can be trained to accurate and constant 
observation, he has the elements of education in himself, 
whether he has the advantages of the schools or not. He will 
always 

"Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks." 

This can be done in a great many ways, varying according 
to the tastes and mental capacity of the children as well as 
the different circumstances and talents of the mother. For 
instance, a mother is out with her children for a walk in the 
country, wheeling the baby's carriage. The children spy some 
flowers growing by the road-side, and ask in eager child- 
fashion, '* Oh ! what 's that, mamma ?" It is very natural and 
easy to say, "Oh! don't touch it — it's nothing but a horrid 
weed — perhaps it 's poisonous." The children's interest is 
dulled at once, and they run on, presently finding something 
else. The answer this time is, '' That 's a thistle ; don't try to 
pick it — you '11 prick your fingers." And so the mother 
trudges along, wearily thinking over her plans for to-morrow's 
breakfast, or wondering if her last year's traveling-suit would 
"make over" for a school dress for Susie, while the children 
go frolicking here and there, getting into mischief, and, very 
likely, having a scolding before they get home, and all gaining 
nothing from their walk except the freshness which physical 
exercise and pure air bring to us in spite of ourselves. Now, 



Il6 HOME TOPICS. 

suppose she says, as the children bring her the flower: *' Why, 
that 's a Scotch thistle ; how did you manage to get it without 
pricking your fingers?" — an implied commendation of the 
child's skill which he likes as well as you the praise of your 
canned strawberries ("Hardly any one succeeds in keeping 
the real fruit flavor, you know"). The mother goes on to say: 
** See the pretty, soft purple color, with all those * prickers ' 
around it, like soldiers guarding a beautiful queen. Do you 
notice how each flower, as you call it, is made of a great many 
little flowers ? And there 's one gone to seed. Get it, 
Charlie, if you can, and let 's look at it." Now, the children's 
interest is wide-awake, and they ask a whole bookful of ques- 
tions. Baby, in her carriage, begins to be impatient at the 
interruption of her ride. *' Let 's walk along, and I '11 tell you 
a story about it." So the mother tells how once, when the 
English army was creeping up at night to surprise the sleeping 
Scotch, a barefooted soldier stepping on a thistle alarmed the 
camp with his cry of pain, and the enemy were driven back in 
defeat, and how the Scotch, in memory of the event, adopted 
the thistle as their national emblem. The children enjoy the 
mother's interest in what has interested them; she, in her turn, 
is refreshed by the change of thought from her ordinary cares; 
and they all come home invigorated mentally as well as bodily. 

Perhaps some day, in years to come, bending wearily over 
school-books, the child reads the incident of the thistle in his 
history, and as a flash of lightning illuminates a room at mid- 
night, the whole scene stands out in his memory — the green- 
bordered road-side, the warm, level rays of the late afternoon 
sun touching the spires and roofs of the distant city, his little 
sister in her carriage, his mother's smile and voice ; and the 
whole lesson is brightened by this reflection from his boyhood. 
In ways like these you can bind yourself with silken cords 
about his future. From what wrong and wickedness in his 
restless youth and early manhood little memories like these 
may beguile him, you cannot tell. 

To advance a step farther from the realm of simple sight 
and touch, there are many historical stories which arc as fasci- 



' A FAMILY JOURNAL. II7 

nating as fairy tales ; for Instance, King Alfred and the burnt 
cakes, Columbus seeing the light on the shore after his three 
weary days' of watching, or Washington crossing the Delaware. 
These things, once committed to a child's memory, are never 
"dropped out" as so much later acquirement is, and they will 
serve as pegs to hang historical knowledge on hereafter, or as 
centers around which he will naturally group other facts. One 
such story will make a whole reign or epoch seem real to him. 
You ought so to instruct your child that he will find, when he 
begins to study, that he knows a great many things about his- 
tory, geography, and the physical sciences even, which he 
never can remember not to have known, nor where he learned 
them; but there they are — a fertile subsoil for other seeds to 
grow in. 



A FAMILY JOURNAL. 

IN a certain farm-house, twenty years ago, a great blank-book 
was kept, and labeled '' Home Journal." Every night 
somebody made an entry in it. Father set down the sale of 
the calves, or mother the cutting of the baby's eye-tooth ; or, 
perhaps, Jenny wrote a full account of the sleighing party 
last night; or Bob the proceedings of the Phi Beta Club; or 
Tom scrawled, ''Tried my new gun. Bully. Shot into the 
fence and Johnson's old cat." 

On toward the middle of the book there was an entry of 
Jenny's marriage, and one of the younger girls had added a 
description of the brides-maids' dresses, and long afterward 
there was written, ''This day father died," in Bob's trembling 
hand. There was a blank of many months after that. 

But nothing could have served better to bind that family 
of headstrong boys and girls together than the keeping of this 
book. They come back to the old homestead now, men and 
women with grizzled hair, to see their mother, who is still 



Il8 HOME TOPICS. 

living, and turn over its pages reverently, with many a hearty 
laugh, or the tears coming into their eyes. It is their child- 
hood come back again in visible shape. 

There are many other practical ways in which home ties 
can be strengthened and made more enduring for children, and 
surely this is as necessary and important a matter in the man- 
agement of a household as the furnishing of the library or 
chambers in good taste, or the accumulation of bric-a-brac. 
One most direct way is the keeping of anniversaries; not 
Christmas, Easter, nor the Fourth of July alone, but those 
which belong to that one home alone. The children's birth- 
days, their mother's wedding-day, the day when they all came 
into the new home. There are a hundred cheerful, happy little 
events which some cheerful and happy little ceremony will 
make a life-long pleasure. The Germans keep alive their 
strong domestic attachments by just such means as these ; it 
seems natural and right to their children that all the house 
should be turned topsy-turvy with joy at Vater or Mutter's 
Geburtstag ; while to the American boy or girl it is a matter 
of indifference when his father and mother were born. We 
know a house in which it is the habit to give to each servant a 
trifling gift on the anniversary of their coming into the family; 
and, as might be expected, these anniversaries return for many 
years. Much of the same softening, humanizing effect may be 
produced by remembering and humoring the innocent whims 
and peculiarities of children. Among hard-working people it 
is the custom too often to bring up a whole family in platoons, 
and to marshal them through childhood by the same general 
inflexible rules. They must eat the same dishes, wear the 
same clothes, work, play, talk, according to the prescribed 
notions of father and mother. When right or wrong is con- 
cerned, let the rule be inexorable ; but when taste, character, 
or stomach only is involved, humor the boy. Be to Tom's red 
cravat a little blind ; make Will the pudding that he likes, 
while the others choose pie. They will be surer of your affec- 
tion than if you sentimentalized about a mother's love for an 
hour. Furthermore, do not grow old yourself too soon. Buy 



HOW TO KEEP A JOURNAL. II9 

chess-boards, dominoes, bagatelle; learn to play games with 
the boys and girls; encourage them to ask their friends to din- 
ner and tea, and take care that your dress and the table be 
pretty and attractive, that the children may be ashamed of 
neither. 

'* Why should I stay at home in the evening?" said a lad 
the other day. " Mother sits and darns stockings, or reads 
Jay's Devotions ; father dozes, and Maggy writes to her lover. 
I '11 go where I can have fun." Meanwhile, father and mother 
were broken-hearted because Joe was '' going to ruin," which 
was undoubtedly the fact. 



HOW TO KEEP A JOURNAL. 

AUTUMN is as good a time as any for a boy or girl to 
begin to keep a journal. Too many have the idea that 
it is a hard and unprofitable task to keep a journal, and 
especially is this the case with those who have begun, but soon 
gave up the experiment. They think it is a waste of time, and 
that no good results from it. But that depends upon the kind 
of journal that you keep. Everybody has heard of the boy 
who thought he would try to keep a diary. He bought a 
book, and wrote in it, for the first day, ''Decided to keep a 
journal." The next day he wrote, "Got up, washed, and went 
to bed." The day after, he wrote the same thing, and no 
wonder that at the end of a week he wrote, "Decided not to 
keep a journal," and gave up the experiment. It is such 
attempts as this, by persons who have no idea of what a 
journal is, or how to keep it, that discourage others from 
beginning. But it is not hard to keep a journal if you begin 
in the right way, and will use a little perseverance and 
patience. The time spent in writing in a journal is not wasted 
by any means. It may be the best employed hour of any in 
the day, and a well-kept journal is a source of pleasure and 



I20 HOME TOPICS. 

advantage which more than repays the writer for the time and 
trouble spent upon it. 

The first thing to do, in beginning a journal, is to resolve 
to stick to it. Don't begin, and let the poor journal die in a 
week. A journal, or diary, should be written in every day, if 
possible. Now, don't be frightened at this, for you do a great 
many things every day, and this is n't a very awful condition. 
The time spent may be longer or shorter, according to the 
matter to be written up ; but try and write, at least a little, 
every day. ''Nulla dies sine linea'' — -no day without a line — 
is a good motto. It is a great deal easier to write a little 
every day than to write up several days in one. 

Do not get for a journal a book with the dates already 
printed in it. That kind will do very well for a merchant's 
note-book, but not for the young man or woman who wants to 
keep a live, cheerful account of a happy and pleasant life. 
Sometimes you will have a picnic or excursion to write about, 
and will want to fill more space than the printed page allows. 
Buy a substantially bound blank-book, made of good paper; 
write your name and address plainly on the fly-leaf, and, if 
you choose, paste a calendar inside the cover. Set down the 
date at the head of the first page, thus: "Tuesday, October i, 
1 88 1." Then begin the record of the day, endeavoring as far 
as possible to mention the events in the correct order of time 
— morning, afternoon, and evening. When this is done, write 
in the middle of the page, "Wednesday, October 2," and you 
are ready for the record of the next day. It is well to set 
down the year at the top of each page. 

But what are you to write about ? First, the weather. 
Don't forget this. Write, " Cold and windy," or " Warm and 
bright," as the case may be. It takes but a moment, and in a 
few years you will have a complete record of the weather, 
which will be found not only curious, but useful. 

Then put down the letters you have received or written, 
and, if you wish, any money paid or received. The day of 
beginning or leaving school; the studies you pursue; visits 
from or to your friends ; picnics or sleigh rides ; the books you 



HOW TO KEEP A JOURNAL. 121 

have read ; and all such items of interest, should be noted. 
Write anything that you want to remember. After trying this 
plan a short time, you will be surprised at the many things 
constantly occurring which you used to overlook, but which 
now form pleasant paragraphs in your book. But don't try to 
write something when there is nothing to write. If there is only 
a Hne to be written, write that, and begin again next day. 

Do not set down about people anything which you would 
not wish them to see. It Is not likely that any one will ever 
see your writing, but it is possible, so always be careful about 
what you write. The Chinese say of a spoken word that, once 
let fall, it cannot be brought back by a chariot and six horses. 
Much more is this true of written words, and once out of your 
possession, there is no telling where they will go, or who will 
see them. 

The best time to write in a journal is in the evening. Keep 
the book in your table-drawer, or on your desk, and, after 
supper, when the lamps are lighted, sit down and write your 
plain account of the day. Don't try to write an able and elo- 
quent article, but simply give a statement of what you have 
seen or done during the day. For the first week or two after 
beginning a journal, the novelty of the thing will keep up your 
interest, and you will be anxious for the time to come when 
you can write your journal. But after a while it becomes 
tedious. Then is the time when you must persevere. Write 
something every day, and before long you will find that you 
are becoming so accustomed to it that you would not willingly 
forego it. After that, the way is plain, and the longer you live 
the more valuable and indispensable your journal will become. 

But some practical young person asks : What is the good 
of a journal ? There is very much. In the first place, it 
teaches habits of order and regularity. The boy or girl who 
every evening arranges the proceedings of the day in sys- 
tematic order, and regularly writes them out, is not likely to 
be careless in other matters. It helps the memory. A person 
who keeps a journal naturally tries during the day to remem- 
ber things he sees, until he can write them down. Then the 



122 HOME TOPICS. 

act of writing helps to still further fix the facts in his memory. 
The journal is a first-class teacher of penmanship. All boys 
and girls should take pride in having the pages of their jour- 
nals as neat and handsome as possible. Compare one day's 
writing with that of the one before, and try to improve every 
day. Keeping a journal cultivates habits of observation, cor- 
rect and concise expression, and gives capital practice in com- 
position, spelling, punctuation, and all the little things which 
go to make up a good letter-writer. So, one who keeps a 
journal is all the while learning to be a better penman and a 
better composer, with the advantage of writing original his- 
torical and descriptive articles, instead of copying the printed 
letters and sentences of a writing-book. 

But, best of all, a well-kept journal furnishes a continuous 
and complete family history, which is always interesting, and 
often very useful. It is sometimes very convenient to have a 
daily record of the year, and the young journalist will often 
have occasion to refer to his account of things gone by. Per- 
haps, some evening, when the family are sitting and talking 
together, some one will ask: ''What kind of weather did we 
have last winter?" or, ''When was the picnic you were speak- 
ing of?" and the journal is referred to. But the pleasure of 
keeping a journal is itself no small reward. It is pleasant to 
exercise the faculty of writing history, and to think that you 
are taking the first step toward writing newspapers and books. 
The writer can practice on different kinds of style, and can 
make his journal a record, not only of events, but of his 
own progress as a thinker and writer. 



A LETTER TO LETTER-WRITERS. 

WHEN young people say that they hate to write letters, 
you may be sure, unless they are very dull and self- 
centered, that their trouble arises from trying to do a very easy 
thing in a very difficult way. It is to such as these that I 
would speak. 



A LETTER TO LETTER- WRITERS. 1 23 

As we may safely take it for granted, from the alacrity 
with which the postman is met at the door, that every one 
likes to receive letters, it seems to be worth while that boys 
and girls should learn how to write, with ease and pleasure to 
themselves, those letters which their friends shall find it a 
pleasure to read. 

Letter- writing is very much a matter of habit, and for that 
reason it is important that young people should learn early to 
consider it a pleasant way of communicating thoughts and feel- 
ings to their friends, instead of a burdensome task to be got 
over as quickly as possible. 

We often hear people excuse themselves by saying that 
they have no " gift for writing letters," as though it were 
something like an ear for music, only accorded to a favored 
few. But the truth is that any one can write interesting and 
pleasant letters who will take a little trouble and really perse- 
vere in the effort. The grand difficulty in the way is that they 
are too selfish and too indolent to try. Nothing that is worth 
anything comes without effort, and if you do not care enough 
about gratifying your friends to take a little pains for it, you 
deserve never to receive any letters yourselves. 

A few simple rules, carefully observed, will help you over 
some of the things which you call difficulties. In the first 
place, always write distinctly. It destroys much of the pleas- 
ure in receiving a letter if it cannot be read without puzzHng 
out every word. Many an epistle, written on heavy, cream- 
laid paper, with a monogram at the top, is only an annoyance 
to the one to whom it is addressed, on account of pale ink and 
careless handwriting. 

Be particular in the matter of dating, giving every item 
distinctly, and sign the letter with your full name. If this 
habit is formed, you will not run the risk of losing valuable 
letters, which cannot be forwarded from the Dead- Letter 
Office unless accompanied with the full address. 

You will find it more easy to reply to a letter soon after 
you get it than if you neglect it for a few weeks, because you 
will have the impressions which the first reading made upon 



124 HOME TOPICS. 

you. Tell your friend when you received the letter which you 
are answering, and take up the topics in the order in which 
they naturally come, remembering to answer all the questions 
which have been asked. Try to think what your friend would 
like best to hear about, and when you undertake to tell any- 
thing, do not leave it half told, but finish the story. People 
who are not careful about this, often give a false impression 
without meaning to do so. For instance, one of these careless 
writers, in giving an account of a fire, simply stated that the 
house was burned, without giving any qualifications, thus giv- 
ing the impression that it was entirely consumed, thereby 
causing a whole family much unnecessary trouble and anxiety, 
as the actual burning in question was very slight. 

Do not consider anything too trivial to write about which 
you would think worth mentioning in conversation. Writing 
letters is simply talking upon paper, and your friends will be 
much more entertained by the narration of little every-day 
afTairs than by profound observations upon topics which you 
care nothing about. 

In writing to very intimate friends, who will be interested 
in the details of your daily life, it is well sometimes to make 
your letter a sort of diary — telhng something of how you 
have spent each day since you wrote last ; what books you 
have been reading, what letters you have received from mu- 
tual friends, and what you have heard or seen which has 
interested you. 

Write all that you have to say on one subject at once. 
That is, do not begin to tell about your garden, and then 
about your school, and then about your garden again ; but 
finish one subject before you begin another. Do not be 
afraid of using the pronoun /. Some people avoid it, and 
thus give their sentences a shabby and unfinished sound, as 
"Went to Boston — called on Mrs. Smith." Never apologize 
for what you write by saying that you do not like to write 
letters. You would not think it quite polite, in visiting a 
friend, to say, " I do not like to talk to you, so I shall not say 
much." Keep the idea before you that you are writing for 
the sake of giving pleasure to your friend. 



A LETTER TO LETTER- WRITERS. 1 25 

When your letter is merely an inquiry, or on a matter of 
business, the case is different. You then should try to be as 
brief, concise, and clear as possible. An elaborately drawn- 
out business letter is as out of place as it is inconsiderate. 

"Do not think what to write, but write what you think," is 
an old rule, and a good one to remember. If you are away 
from home, it is very selfish not to share your good times with 
the family by writing frequent letters. You can tell what you 
are enjoying so much better while it is fresh in your mind 
than you can after you return, when you may not have leisure 
to go over the whole ground ; and these home letters may be a 
means afterward of refreshing your own memory, and remind- 
ing you of incidents which you would otherwise have forgotten. 
There are many other things which might be said here, but 
this will do for the present. A very good rule for letter- 
writing is the golden one, ''Do as you would be done by." 

Here are two letters, both written not long ago, which 

illustrate so well some of the things which I have been saying, 

that I must give them to you. They remind one of the old 

story of ''Eyes and No Eyes," where one boy saw nothing 

interesting in a long walk, v/hile his brother, in going over 

the same ground, saw a great many wonderful things. Fanny 

wrote with a real desire to give her cousin pleasure, but Ellen 

wished only to get a disagreeable duty off her mind. 

Here is Fanny's letter : 

"INGLESIDE, Mass., April 20th, 1876. 

" My dear Annie : I was very glad to receive your kind letter, which 
came last Thursday. 

" We are very busy just now, as we go to school every day. Aunt Alice 
is visiting us, and every evening she gives us a short lesson in drawing. 
We have taken only six, and so have not got on much ; but I hope soon to 
be able to draw from copies pretty well. After that, we are going to take 
lessons of a regular teacher in sketching from nature. After we are through 
with Aunt Alice, Mamma reads aloud to us while we rest our eyes. She 
has just finished the second volume of ' Mr. Rutherford's Children,' and I 
think it is the nicest book I ever read, except ' Little Women.' 

" Last week Mamma took us both to see Mr. Starr exhibit his magic- 
lantern in the Town Hall. He had a large white screen put up at the back 
of the stage, and the hall was darkened so that we could see the reflections 
on the screen. He showed us the sting of a bee and the point of a cambric- 
needle, very much larger than they really are. The needle looked like a 



126 HOME TOPICS. 

blunt stick, but the sting was as sharp as ever. He had a Uttle animal 
which he called a water-tiger. It is really so small that you can hardly see 
it; but on the screen it looked as large as a kitten, and we could see it eat 
bits of food which he threw into the water. I cannot remember all the 
things he showed us ; but after that part of the exhibition was over, he pre- 
tended to talk to a man in the cellar, and he made his voice sound as if 
another man was answering him. Then he made believe saw a log of 
wood and catch a bumble-bee. We never heard a ventriloquist before, and 
of course enjoyed it very much. You asked me what color would be pret- 
tiest for your room-paper. I should think you would like blue best. Next 
week we are invited to Maggie Alison's party. Every one of the girls must 
either learn some little piece of poetry or a funny story, to repeat there. 
After supper, Mrs. Alison is going to show us a set of photographs which 
have been sent her from Europe. Ellen and I are working a set of bureau- 
mats to give Maggie. 

" I wish you could see our new kittens that are playing on the rug. 
Mine is gray and Ellen's is buff. You know our kitty ran away, and we 
both felt so badly that our neighbor, Mrs. Williams, sent us these two last 
Saturday. I wish you would tell us what to call them. We cannot think 
of any names pretty enough. Next week the garden will be made, and 
we are going to try and keep our flower-beds in better order than we did 
last year. 

" I had a letter last week from Cousin John. His letter sounds as if he 
was as old as Papa. He is going to Phillips's Academy next September. 
All the family are sitting here, and send their love. Aunt Alice says she 
shall not make her visit at your house until June. Give my love to aunt 
and uncle. Thank them for asking me to go and see you this summer. 

" Your affectionate cousin, 

^'Fannie A. Holmes." 
Ellen's letter : 

'Mngleside, April. 

"Dear Agnes : We are very busy, so I cannot write much. We take 
lessons from Aunt Alice. We go to school all day. I study arithmetic, 
and geography, and other things. 

" We went to an exhibition, and had a splendid time. The man sawed, 
and caught a bee. The weather is quite warm now. Warm weather is 
better than cold for a great many things. We don't have any vacation 
until June. Sixteen girls are in our class. The man's name was Starr. 
He had a water-tiger that he fed. Aunt Alice sends her love. I am work- 
ing a mat. We are going to have a bed in the garden. Mamma sends 
love to you all. I do not like to write letters, so you must excuse a short 
one. We are going to plant a great many seeds. We are invited to a 
party. Mamma and Papa are very well ; so are Fanny and I. We have 
two kittens. 1 cannot think of anything more to say. I hope you will 
write me a long letter very soon. I like to get letters often. 

''Your affectionate friend, Ellen." 



STATIONERY. 12/ 

STATIONERY. 

THERE is no more useless thing in the world, considered 
per se, and without regard to its contents, than a note- 
paper which has been written upon. If it holds a line from the 
beloved one, a promise to pay, a poem, a recipe, it may secure 
a brief existence; if not, it is cast aside, a disregarded thing, 
of no earthly use to anybody. 

And yet in the production and purchase of these ephem- 
eral luxuries large sums of money are yearly spent. Every 
season sees some new device in shape or style. '' From grave 
to gay, from lively to severe," the costly whim ranges. Now 
a square sheet, now an oblong, rules the day; of satin smooth- 
ness one month, rough as shagreen the next ; with initials and 
monograms of every design and shade, and envelopes as 
multiform as Proteus. A guide is required to comprehend, 
and a fortune to follow, the exigence of Fashion. 

Sometimes the novelty is " tint." The note which, when 
first glanced at, appears white, on closer examination reveals, 
so to speak, a faint perfume of color — blushes inaudible pink 
or most delicate lilac, or shadows forth the faintest green. And 
the monogram which crowns the sheet is to the monogram of 
two years before as the full-fledged summer to the pale spring. 
No longer a mere interlacement of lines — red, blue, or black 
— it is now a work of art, — as intricate, as rich, and as costly 
as an initial letter in an illuminated missal. Gold, carmine, 
ultramarine, umber, royal purple, blend therein in soft unison 
— the writing-desk, when opened, glows like a bed of jewels 
or a fairy flower-garden. When opened — Ah ! — there 's the 
rub ! It is when the test of use is applied to these dainty 
creations that the question arises, *' What has the modern 
note- writer to say which is worthy of committal to these 
exquisite pages?" 

For paper cannot enhance thought — it is thought which 
embalms the paper. Shakespeare inscribed his sonnets and 
Sir Philip Sidney his sad, melodious lays upon sheets so coarse 
and yellow that our very cooks would scorn them. Yet what 
fragrance, what priceless value now hangs about those dis- 



128 HOME TOPICS. 

colored folios. And when upon the luxurious smoothness of 
the modern page we find only the penury of feeling and the 
poverty of style, the ill-punctuated, ill-arranged, inelegantly 
phrased, and meaningless lines which make up the average 
letter, we are forced to sigh that this inheritance of the centu- 
ries should not be in the hands of worthier beings or applied 
to worthier uses. 

A fashionable note, whose irregular scrawl has consumed 
two of the minikin sheets now in vogue, may be fairly com- 
puted to have cost at least three times the value of its postage 
stamp and ten of its contents. Glancing it over, we are forced 
to frown as we laugh — and we recall something once said by 
Curtis, to the effect that it is useless to waste time in acquiring 
mastery over a foreign language, French for example, when 
the mind affords you nothing worth saying in your own. 
EngHsh answers as well as purest Tuscan if all you desire to 
express is that the evening is a warm one, or *' this is a 
pleasant party." And so with paper. Commercial note is 
good enough, and too good, for the commonplace chit-chat of 
average correspondence. And though wit still exists in the 
world, and sense, and poetry, and epigram; though letters are 
written to-day as bright and forcible as any of Madame de 
Sevigne's or Walpole's, still the art of letter-writing is confess- 
edly in its decadence, and the best examples existing among 
us are, as a general thing, written on plain paper, and sent 
forth with no waving of gorgeous flags or blowing of trumpets. 
" Good wine needs no bush." Let that content those whom 
an untoward fate compels to ''seal their letters with their 
thumbs," and dispense with a monogram. 



PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE. 1 29 

PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE. 

CERTAIN amiable cynics are so gracious as to say that 
most of the trouble in the world comes from women's 
writing letters. With this kindly remark they dismiss the 
epistolary subject as one too trivial for their mighty regard. 
Fortunately, this opinion is seldom expressed, and letter- 
writing has not therefore fallen into such disrepute as it must 
have done had this view been widely held. Good correspond- 
ence is one of the social graces. To compose a really ex- 
cellent letter is a most difficult and delicate task, calling into 
play all the intellectual faculties, and exercising them each in 
turn. Thousands of persons of good position and average 
culture go to their graves without ever having written a cred- 
itable epistle during their whole lives. Most people do not 
correspond with persons with whom they are on formal terms; 
and when they write to relatives and intimates, they scratch 
off something about Jane's engagement, Harry's sprained ankle, 
or Mr. Jones's change of business, and call it a letter. These 
family matters are undoubtedly interesting to the recipients; 
but it would also be pleasant to know the writer's opinion of a 
new book, the last picture from some celebrated easel, or the 
cause of some great national agitation. It is only through 
letters that widely separated friends can keep pace with each 
other's mental and spiritual growth ; and if these subjects are 
never touched upon, how can either tell whether the other has 
become an intellectual dwarf or giant since they met ? 

The gift of language, of correct word-using, is bestowed on 
few by Mother Nature ; but it is susceptible of great cultiva- 
tion, and no method so easily and naturally cultivates facility 
of expression as the habit of writing thoughtful letters. In- 
stead of fewer letters, more and better ones ought to be written. 
Children should be encouraged and aided in their feeble at- 
tempts at correspondence, for they are laying the foundation 
of future intellectual delight, if they but carefully try each 
time to do their best. Felicities of phrase, the power of ex- 
pressing delicate shades of meaning, will come with practice. 
9 



I30 HOME TOPICS. 

The habit of writing induces verbal exactness, which conversa- 
tion rarely or never does, and is advantageous in many ways. 
The interchange of ideas and sentiments in private corre- 
spondence is a mental stimulus too little appreciated and 
heeded, and, where time and circumstances favor, cannot be 
too sedulously improved. 



ANSWERING LETTERS. 

THE most satisfactory correspondence between friends is 
that which is prompted and carried on by inclination, 
and not from any sense of duty. When we receive a private 
letter from one whom we esteem and cherish, what emotions, 
sympathies, and affections it excites! Our heart and our mind 
respond as we run over the welcome lines. Every question 
suggests an answer, every sentence evokes a spontaneous 
reply. Our actively enlisted brain has prepared, without 
effort, whatever we wish to say. It is ready and anxious to 
dictate to the hand, and if its dictation be not followed at or 
about that time, the force of the inspiration will be dulled, if, 
indeed, we are not bereft of it entirely. The longer the answer 
is delayed, the more difficult and unsatisfactory it becomes. 
All the fresh, fine things we were ready to say evaporate ; what 
would have been a warm delight becomes a frigid duty. The 
letter reflects our mood; is stiff, awkward, forced — not at all 
what we had hoped and wanted to put on paper. 

Private correspondence of the right kind is little more than 
recorded conversation. To place great gaps between letters 
and their answers is like putting questions to a friend one day, 
and waiting until the next day, or the next week, for his 
replies. A hundred things are likely to interfere with answer- 
ing letters ; but the thing that interferes most is our own 
procrastination. If we make it a rule to attend to them at the 



SOME WESTERN SCHOOL-MASTERS. I31 

earliest leisure moment, we shall soon find few missives rebuk- 
ing us for silence, and we shall feel that our correspondence 
has grown to be what it always should be — a spontaneous, 
pleasant, entirely cordial interchange of friendship. 



SOME WESTERN SCHOOL-MASTERS, 

IN a ragged little frontier village, where the smoky wig- 
wams of the savage and thriftless Sioux still lingered 
among the unpainted board cottages of the settlers, there was 
a school-master who published a little sheet, at the close of his 
school term, filled with the essays of his pupils. For a motto 
over this weakly paper he told the printer to set : 

'' No pent-up continent contracts our powers. 
But the whole boundless universe is ours." 

The printer thought that the little school was staking out 
rather too large a preemption claim : he suggested to the 
teacher that 

'' No pent-up Utica contracts our powers, 
But the whole boundless continent is ours," 

was the correct version, and was sufficiently broad for the size 
of the sheet. 

" Oh, that is n't right," said the master, contemptuously. 
" I suppose some of them Utica papers had it that way." 

It seems just possible that this teacher, on the edge of 
civilization, was a sort of embodiment of our modern spirit. Is 
the present system of cramming a great advance on older and 
simpler methods of teaching ? In the curriculum of our time, 
neither Utica nor the continent will serve our turn. We 
attempt the whole boundless universe, forgetful of Hosea 
Biglow's wise couplet : 

'' For it strikes me ther 's sech a thing ez sinnin' 
By overloadin' children's underpinnin'." 



132 HOME TOPICS. 

As I recall the old-time school, I cannot but think that, if 
its discipline was somewhat more brutal than the school disci- 
pline of to-day, its course of study was far less so. Children 
did not often die of the severity of the old masters, though 
many perish from the hard requirements of the modern system. 

To a nervous child, the old discipline w^as, indeed, very 
terrible. The long beech switches hanging on hooks against 
the wall haunted me night and day, from the time I entered 
one of the old schools. And whenever there came an outburst 
between master and pupils, the thoughtless child often got the 
beating that should have fallen upon the malicious mischief- 
maker. As the master was always quick to fly into a passion, 
the fun-loving boys were always happy to stir him up. It was 
an exciting sport, like bull-baiting, or like poking sticks 
through a fence at a cross c^og. Sometimes the ferocious 
master showed an ability on his own part to get some fun out 
of the conflict, as when, on one occasion in a school in Ohio, 
the boys were forbidden to attend a circus. Five or six of 
them went, in spite of the prohibition. The next morning, the 
school-master called them out in the floor and addressed them: 

" So you went to the circus, did you ? " 

"Yes, sir." 

'* Well, the others did not get a chance to see the circus. I 
want you boys to show them what it looked like, and how the 
horses galloped around the ring. You will join your hands in 
a circle about the stove. Now start ! " 

With that he began whipping them, as they trotted around 
and around the stove. This story is told, I believe, in a little 
volume of " Sketches," by Erwin House, now long forgotten, 
like many other good books of the Western literature of a gen- 
eration ago. I think the author was one of the boys who 
" played horse " in the master's circus. 

It was fine sport for the more daring boys to plant a hand- 
ful of coffee-nuts in the ashes just before the master's entrance. 
It is the nature of these coffee-nuts to lie quietly in the hot 
ashes for about half an hour, and then to explode with a sharp 
report, scattering the live coals in an inspiring way. Nothing 



SOME WESTERN SCHOOL-MASTERS. 1 33 

could be funnier than the impotent wrath of the school- master, 
as he went poking in the embers to find the remaining nuts, 
which generally eluded his search and popped away like torpe- 
does under his very nose. 

The teaching in these schools was often quite absurd. I 
was made to go through Webster's spelling-book five times 
before I was thought fit to begin to read, and my mother, 
twenty years earlier, spelled it through nine times before she 
was allowed to begin Lindley Murray's "English Reader." It 
was by mere chance of the survival of some of the tougher old 
masters that I knew the old school in its glory. The change 
for the better was already beginning thirty or forty years ago. 
The old masters taught their pupils to " do sums " ; the new 
ones had already begun to teach arithmetic. In one of the 
schools in the generation before me was one Jim Garner ; he 
must be an old man now, if he is yet living, and he will pardon 
my laughing at the boy of fifty years ago. One day he sat 
for a long time tapping his slate with his pencil. 

" Jeems," cried the master, *' what are you doing?" 

" I 'm a-tryin' to think, and I can't," said Jim, " if you take 
three from one how many there is left." 

It was in the same old Bethel school-house, about the same 
time, that the master, one Benefiel, called out the spelling- 
class of which my mother, then a little girl, was usually at the 
head. The word given out was '^ onion." I suppose the 
scholars at the head of the class had not recognized the word 
by its spelling, in studying their lessons. They all missed it 
widely, spelling it in the most ingeniously incorrect fashions. 
Near the foot of the class stood a boy who had never been 
able to climb up toward the head. But of the few words he 
did know how to spell, one was *' onion." When the word was 
missed at the head he became greatly excited, twisting himself 
into the most ludicrous contortions as it came nearer and 
nearer to him. At length the one just above the eager boy 
missed, the master said '* Next," whereupon he exultingly 
swung his hand above his head and came out with: " 0-n, un, 
i-o-n, yun, ing~un — I 'm head, by gosh!" and he marched 



134 HOME TOPICS. 

to the head, while the master hit him a blow across the shoul- 
ders for swearing. 

The beginning of " educational reform " in my childhood 
took on curious forms. We had one grown man in Benefiel's 
school who got his tuition free of charge in consideration of 
his teaching the master and some of the other pupils geography 
by the new method of singing it, which he had learned some- 
where. At the noon recess he and the master, with others, 
would sit with Smith 's Atlas open before them, singing away 
in the most earnest and sentimental sing-song such refrains as 
this, pointing to the State capitals while they sang: 

^' Maine, Au — gusta ! Maine, Au — gusta! 
New Hampshire, Concord, New Hampshire, Concord," 

and so on down to the newly annexed State of Texas. 

The '' Rule of Three" was the objective point of all study, 
and he who ciphered through that had well-nigh exhausted 
human knowledge. The illiteracy of the up-country regions 
was very great, and during the six years which my father, on 
account of declining health, passed in a country place, our 
experience with schools was not a happy one. There came at 
one time to our district an old Irish master, who also claimed 
to be a doctor. Some years before, in a lawsuit in which my 
father was retained, the old man persisted in writing his own 
deposition, wherein he related that he had studied '' medesin " 
in Ireland. The old man was very much enraged when my 
father declined to send us to his school. He had been known 
to spend a solid hour in family devotions, and then, rising 
from his knees, to walk across the floor and kick his son for 
going to sleep during prayers. He was afterward tried for 
poisoning his wife, but acquitted through the eloquence of that 
unsurpassed orator, Joseph G. Marshall. 

Of course, it often came to pass in such a state of things 
that men rose to prominence who had little education. A rich 
distiller, who represented us in Congress some years later, 
wrote a letter, full of blunders, that fell into the hands of his 
opponents. They published it, and he suffered much ridicule. 



SOME WESTERN SCHOOL-MASTERS. 135 

'' F ," said one of his friends, '' did you write that letter?" 

"Yes," said he, "but it was n't so bad as that — they mucil- 
ated it." 

In all the period of darkness and insufficient schools that 
preceded my childhood, there were here and there good 
teachers in some of the villages, and to the lucky village that 
had a good master came boys and girls from near and far, — 
sometimes from fifty miles away. There was never a period 
of indifference to education in the Ohio River region — never a 
time when a good school was not accounted a thing of the 
greatest value ; but the sparse settlement made schools scarce, 
— the great demand for men of education in other walks of 
life always makes good teachers scarce in a new country, — 
and the excess of demand over supply in the matter of women 
left no unmarried young women of education to serve as 
school-mistresses. The earliest female teachers that I remem- 
ber, with one exception, were the thrifty wives of New Eng- 
land settlers, who knew how to mind their children and turn 
an honest dollar by teaching the children of their neighbors. 
But we were particularly warned against New England pro- 
vincialisms ; my father, who was a graduate of William and 
Mary, in Virginia, even threatened us with corporal punish- 
ment if we should ever give the peculiar vowel sound heard 
in some parts of New England in such words as "roof" and 
"root." After our return to the village, I had the good fort- 
une to have some teachers whom I remember with gratitude. 
One was a Presbyterian minister from New England, who, with 
his wife, — a woman of fine ability, — taught an excellent 
school. In this school we first saw blackboards and similar 
devices for teaching in an intelligent way. The minister's wife 
kept good books to lend to thoughtful pupils, and her influ- 
ence on the village was a very beneficent one. Another was 
Jesse Williams, also a New-Englander, who became afterward 
a Methodist minister. These two were the only men that I 
knew in my boyhood who could teach school without beating 
their pupils like oxen. There was another New England min- 
ister, whose pupil I was in one of the Indiana cities, who kept 



136 HOME TOPICS. 

his school in a state of continual terror. This is a cheap sort 
of discipline, quite possible to men who have not tact enough 
to govern otherwise than brutally. 

So great was the desire for education in Indiana, even at 
this early date, that before my memory of the place our old 
town of Vevay was adorned by a ''county seminary." It was 
proposed to educate by counties, and a seminary was to be 
built at the county's expense ; but the old jealousy between 
town and country flamed up. The people of the country were 
not going to pay taxes to build a seminary in town, so the 
seminary was built outside the corporation line, in a command- 
ing position on the top of a steep hill at least three hundred 
feet high. This high school always reminded me of the 
temple of fame which did duty as frontispiece to Webster's 
spelling-book in that day; the temple being situated on an 
inaccessible mountain, at the foot of which an ambitious 
school-boy stood looking wistfully up. For one or two winters, 
the village youth and the country children boarding in town 
walked a mile, and then scrambled up this hard hill ; but the 
school was soon abandoned for better schools in the town, and 
the old brick *' seminary " stands there yet, I believe, a monu- 
ment of educational folly. Many an ambitious modern device 
is like our seminary — useless from inaccessibility. 

While the good Presbyterian minister was teaching in our 
village, he was waked up one winter morning by a poor bound 
boy, who had ridden a farm horse many miles to get the 
** master" to show him how to "do a sum" that had puzzled 
him. The fellow was trying to educate himself, but was 
required to be back at home in time to begin his day's work as 
usual. The good master, chafing his hands to keep them 
warm, sat down by the boy and expounded the ** sum " to him 
so that he understood it. Then the poor boy straightened 
himself up and, thrusting his hard hand into the pocket of his 
blue jeans trowsers, pulled out a quarter of a dollar, explaining, 
with a blush, that it was all he could pay, for it was all he had. 
Of course the master made him put it back, and told him to 
come whenever he wanted any help. I remember the huski- 



SOME WESTERN SCHOOL-MASTERS. 1 37 

ness of the minister's voice when he told us about it in school 
that morning. When I recall how eagerly the people sought 
for opportunities of education, I am not surprised to hear that 
Indiana, of all the States, has to-day one of the largest, if not 
the largest, school-fund. 

We had one teacher who was, so far as natural genius for 
teaching goes, the best of all I have ever known. Mrs. Julia 
L. Dumont is, like all our Western writers of that day, except 
Prentice, almost entirely forgotten. But in the time, before 
railways, when the West, shut in by the AUeghanies, had an 
incipient literature, Mrs. Dumont occupied no mean place as a 
writer of poetry and prose tales. Eminent litterateurs of the 
time, from Philadelphia and Cincinnati, used to come to 
Vevay to see her; but they themselves — these great lights of 
ancient American literature away back in the forties — are also 
forgotten. Who remembers Gallagher and the rest to-day ? 
Dear brethren, who like myself scratch away to fill up maga- 
zine pages, and who, no doubt, like myself are famous enough 
to be asked for an autograph, or a " sentiment " in an album 
sometimes, let us not boast ourselves. Why, indeed, should 
the spirit of mortal be proud? We also shall be forgotten, — 
the next generation of school-girls will get their autographs 
from a set of upstarts who will smile at our stories and poems 
as out-of-date puerilities. Some industrious Allibone, making 
a cemetery of dead authors, may give us, in his dictionary, 
three lines apiece as a sort of head-stone. Oh, let us be hum- 
ble and pray that even the Allibone that is to come do not 
forget us. For I look in vain in Allibone for some of the 
favorite names in our Western Parnassus. It was not enough 
that the East swallowed that incipient literature — it even oblit- 
erated the memory of it. Let us hope that the admirable Mr. 
Tyler, who has made to live again the memories of so many 
colonial writers, will revive also the memory of some of the 
forgotten authors of the Mississippi Valley. 

Among those who have been so swiftly forgotten as not 
even to have a place in Allibone, is my old and once locally 
famous teacher, Mrs. Dumont. We thought her poem on 



138 HOME TOPICS. 

*' The Retreat of the Ten Thousand " admirable, but we were 
partial judges. Her story of " Boonesborough " was highly 
praised by the great lights of the time. But her book of 
stories is out of print, and her poems are forgotten, and so also 
are the great lights who admired them. I do not pretend that 
there was enough in these writings to have made them deserve 
a different fate. Ninety-nine hundredths of all good hterary 
production must of necessity be forgotten ; if the old trees 
endured forever, there would be no room for the new shoots. 

But as a school-mistress Mrs. Dumont deserves immor- 
tality. She knew nothing of systems, but she went unerringly 
to the goal by pure force of native genius. In all her early 
life she taught because she was poor, but after her husband's 
increasing property relieved her from necessity, she still taught 
school from love of it. When she was past sixty years old, a 
school-room was built for her alongside her residence, which 
was one of the best in the town. It was here that I first knew 
her, after she had already taught two generations in the place. 
The "graded" schools had been newly introduced, and no 
man was found who could, either in acquirements or ability, 
take precedence of the venerable school-mistress; so the high 
school was given to her. 

I can see the wonderful old lady now, as she was then, 
with her cape pinned awry, rocking her splint-bottom chair 
nervously while she talked. Full of all manner of knowledge, 
gifted with something very like eloquence in speech, abound- 
ing in affection for her pupils and enthusiasm in teaching, she 
moved us strangely. Being infatuated with her, we became 
fanatic in our pursuit of knowledge, so that the school hours 
were not enough, and we had a 'Myceum" in the evening for 
reading " compositions," and a club for the study of history. 
If a recitation became very interesting, the entire school 
would sometimes be drawn into the discussion of the subject; 
all other lessons went to the wall, books of reference were 
brought out of her library, hours were consumed, and many 
a time the school session was prolonged until darkness forced 
us reluctantly to adjourn. 



SOME WESTERN SCHOOL-MASTERS. 1 39 

Mrs. Dumont was the ideal of a teacher because she suc- 
ceeded in forming character. She gave her pupils unstinted 
praise, not hypocritically, but because she lovingly saw the 
best in every one. We worked in the sunshine. A dull but 
industrious pupil was praised for diligence, a bright pupil for 
ability, a good one for general excellence. The dullards got 
more than their share, for, knowing how easily such an one is 
disheartened, Mrs. Dumont went out of her way to praise the 
first show of success in a slow scholar. She treated no two 
alike. She was full of all sorts of knack and tact, a person 
of infinite resource for calling out the human spirit. She 
could be incredibly severe when it was needful, and no over- 
grown boy whose meanness had once been analyzed by Mrs. 
Dumont ever forgot it. 

I remember one boy with whom she had taken some pains. 
One day he wrote an insulting word about one of the girls of 
the school on the door of a deserted house. Two of us were 
deputized by the other boys to defend the girl by complaining 
of him. Mrs. Dumont took her seat, and began to talk to him 
before the school. The talking was all there was of it ; but I 
think I never pitied any human being more than I did that 
boy, as she showed him his vulgarity and his ^meanness, and as 
at last, in the climax of her indignation, she called him " a 
miserable hawbuck." At another time, when she had picked a 
piece of paper from the floor with a bit of profanity written on 
it, she talked about it until the whole school detected the 
author by the beads of perspiration on his forehead. 

When I had written a composition on ''The Human Mind," 
based on Combe's Phrenology, and adorned with quotations 
from Pope's ''Essay on Man," she gave me to read the old 
Encyclopedia Britannica containing an article expounding the 
Hartleian system of mental philosophy, and followed this with 
Locke on the "Conduct of the Understanding." She was the 
only teacher I have known who understood that school studies 
were entirely secondary to general reading as a source of cult- 
ure, and who put the habit of good reading first in the list of 
acquirements. 



I40 HOME TOPICS. 

There was a rack for hats and cloaks so arranged as to cut 
off a portion of the school from the teacher's sight Some of 
the larger girls, who occupied this space, took advantage of 
their concealed position to do a great deal of talking and titter- 
ing, which did not escape Mrs. Dumont's watchfulness. But 
in the extreme corner of the room was the seat of the excellent 

Drusilla H , who had never violated a rule of the school. 

To reprimand the others, while excepting her, would have 
excited jealousy and complaints. The girls who sat in that 
part of the room were detained after school, and treated to one 
of Mrs. Dumont's tender but caustic lectures on the dishonor- 
ableness of secret ill-doing. Drusilla bore silently her share of 
the reproof But at the last the school- mistress said : 

" Now, my dears, it may be that there is some one among 
you not guilty of misconduct. If there is, I know I can trust 
you to tell me who is not to blame." 

''Drusilla never talks," they all said at once, while Dru- 
silla, girl-like, fell to crying. 

But the most remarkable illustration of Mrs. Dumont's 
skill in matters of discipline was shown in a case in which all 
the boys of the school were involved, and were for a short 
time thrown into antagonism to a teacher whose ascendency 
over them had been complete. 

We were playing ''town-ball" on the common, at a long 
distance from the school-room. Town-ball is one of the old 
games from which the more scientific but not half so amusing 
"national game" of base-ball has since been evolved. In that 
day the national game was not thought of Eastern youth 
played field-base and Western boys town-ball in a free and 
happy way, with soft balls, primitive bats, and no nonsense. 
There were no scores, but a catch or a cross-out in town-ball 
put the whole side out, leaving the others to take the bat, or 
" paddle," as it was appropriately called. The very looseness 
of the game gave opportunity for many ludicrous mischances 
and surprising turns which made it a most joyous play. 

Either because the wind was blowing adversely, or because 
the play was more than commonly interesting, we failed to 



SOME WESTERN SCHOOL-MASTERS. I4I 

hear the ringing of Mrs. Dumont's hand-bell at one o'clock. 
The afternoon wore on until more than an hour of school-time 
had passed, when some one suddenly bethought himself. We 
dropped the game and started, pell-mell, full of consternation, 
for the school-room. We would at that moment have pre- 
ferred to face an angry school-master with his beechen rod 
than to have offended one whom we reverenced so much. The 
girls all sat in their places; the teacher was sitting silent and 
awful in her rocking-chair ; in the hour and a half no lessons 
had been recited. We shuffled into our seats and awaited the 
storm. It was the high school, and the boys were mostly 
fifteen or sixteen years of age, but the school-mistress had 
never a rod in the room. Such weapons are for people of 
fewer resources than she. Very quietly she talked to us, but 
with great emphasis. She gave no chance for explanation or 
apology. She was hopelessly hurt and affronted. We had 
humiliated her before the whole town, she said. She should 
take away from us the morning and afternoon recess for a 
week. She would demand an explanation from us to- 
morrow. 

It was not possible that a company of boys could be kept 
for half an hour in such a moral sweat-box as that to which 
she treated us without growing angry. When school was 
dismissed, we held a running indignation meeting as we walked 
toward home. Of course we all spoke at once. But after a 
while the more moderate saw that the teacher had some reason. 
Nevertheless, one boy was appointed to draft a written reply 
that should set forth our injured feelings. I remember in what 
perplexity that committee found himself. With every hour he 
felt more and more that the teacher was right and the boys 
wrong, and that by the next morning the reviving affection 
of the scholars for the beloved and venerated school- mistress 
would cause them to appreciate this. So that the address 
which was presented for their signatures did not breathe much 
indignation. I can almost recall every word of that somewhat 
pompous but very sincere petition. It was about as I give it 
here : 



142 HOME TOPICS. 

'^ Honored Madam : In regard to our offense of yesterday, we beg 
that you will do us the justice to believe that it was not intentional. We 
do not ask you to remit the punishment you have inflicted in taking 
away our recess, but we do ask you to remit the heavier penalty we have 
incurred — your own displeasure." 

The boys all willingly signed this except one who was, 
perhaps, the only conscious offender of the party. He con- 
fessed that he had observed that the sun was '* getting a little 
slanting" while we were at play, but as his side "had the 
paddles " he did not say anything until they were put out. 
The unwilling boy wanted more indignation in the address, and 
he wanted the recess back. But when all the others had signed 
he did not dare leave his name off, but put it at the bottom of 
the list. 

With trembling hands we gave the paper to the school- 
mistress. How some teachers would have used such a paper 
as a means of further humiliation to the offenders ! How few 
could have used it as she did ! The morning wore on with- 
out recess. The lessons were heard as usual. As the noon 
hour drew near, Mrs. Dumont rose from her chair and went 
into the library. We all felt that something was going to 
happen. She came out with a copy of Shakespeare, which she 
opened at the fourth scene of the fourth act of the second part 
of King Henry IV. Giving the book to my next neighbor 
and myself, she bade us read the scene, alternating with the 
change of speaker. You remember the famous dialogue in that 
scene between the dying king and the prince who has prema- 
turely taken the crown from the bedside of the sleeping king. 
It was all wonderfully fresh to us and to our school-mates, 
whose interest was divided between the scene and a curiosity 
as to the use the teacher meant to make of it. At length the 
reader who took the king's part read : 

"O my son! 
Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence, 
That thou mightst win the more thy father's love, 
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it." 



SOME WESTERN SCHOOL-MASTERS. 143 

Then she took the book and closed it. The appHcation was 
evident to all, but she made us a touching little speech full of 
affection, and afterward restored the recess. She detained the 
girls when we had gone to read to them the address, that she 
might "show them what noble brothers they had." Without 
doubt she made overmuch of our nobleness. But no one knew 
better than Mrs. Dumont that the surest way of evoking the 
best, in man or boy, is to make the most of the earliest symp- 
toms of it. From that hour our school-mistress had our whole 
hearts ; we loved her and reverenced her ; we were thought- 
less enough, but for the most of us her half-suspected wish 
was a supreme law. 

So, after all, it does not matter that the world no longer 
reads her stories or remembers her poems. Her life always 
seemed to me a poem, or something better than a poem. It 
does not matter, fellow- scribblers, that the generation to come 
shall forget us and go to upstart fellows of another generation 
for autograph verses for church fairs and charity bazars. 
It does not matter greatly, dear, aspiring young reader, 
whether you ever succeed in getting your poetry embalmed in 
"Scribner" or not. I cannot read an old magazine of forty 
years ago without a laugh — and almost a tear — over the airs 
those notabilities of a day gave themselves. How sure they 
were of immortality, and how utterly forgotten are the most 
of them, like last year's burdock, that boasted itself so 
proudly in the fence-row ! But whether you print your story 
or poem or not, blessed are you if you put heroism into your 
life, so that the memory of it shall refresh some weary way- 
farer long after the fickle public has forgotten your work. 



PART III. THE VACATIONS. 



HOW TO TRAVEL. 

THIS article does not refer to the journey to Europe, 
toward which almost all young people are looking. 
When the opportunity for foreign travel comes, there are 
plenty of guide-books and letters from abroad which will tell 
you just what to take with you, and what you ought to do in 
every situation. This is for short, every-day trips, which 
people take without much thought ; but as there is a right and 
a wrong way of doing even little things, young folks may as 
well take care that they receive and give the most pleasure 
possible in a short journey, and then, when the trip across the 
ocean comes, they will not be annoying themselves and others 
by continual mistakes. 

As packing a trunk is usually the first preparation for a 
trip, we will begin with that. 

It is a very good way to collect what is most important 
before you begin, so that you may not leave out any necessary 
article. Think over what you will be likely to need ; for a 
little care before you start may save you a great deal of incon- 
venience in the end. Be sure, before you begin, that your 



HOW TO TRAVEL. I45 

trunk is in good order, and that you have the key. And 
when you shut it for the last time, do not leave the straps 
sticking out upon the outside. Put your heavy things at the 
bottom, packing them tightly, so that they will not rattle about 
when the trunk is reversed. Put the small articles in the tray. 
Anything which will be likely to be scratched or defaced by 
rubbing, should be wrapped in a handkerchief and laid among 
soft things. If you must carry anything breakable, do it up 
carefully and put it in the center of the trunk, packing clothing 
closely about it. Bottles should have the corks tied in with 
strong twine. Put them near articles which cannot be injured 
by the contents, if a breakage occurs. Tack on your trunk 
a card with your permanent address. As this card is to be 
consulted only if the trunk is lost, it is not necessary to be 
constantly changing it. Take, in the traveling-bag, pins and 
a needle and thread, so that, in case of any accident to your 
clothes, they can be repaired without troubling any one else. 
A postal-card and a pencil and paper take up but little room, 
and may be very convenient. The best way to carry your 
lunch is in a pasteboard box, which can be thrown away after 
you have disposed of the contents. 

Put your money in an inner pocket, reserving in your 
purse only what you will be likely to need on the way, so that 
you may be able to press your way through a crowd without 
fear of pickpockets. Your purse should also contain your 
name and address. 

Try to be ready, so that you will not be hurried at the last 
moment ; and this does not mean that it is necessary to be at 
the station a long time before the train leaves. To be punctual 
does not mean to be too early, but to be just early enough. 

Try to find out, before you start, what train and car you 
ought to take, and have your trunk properly checked. Put the 
check in some safe place, but first look at the number, so that 
you may identify the check if lost by you and found by others. 
Have your ticket where you can easily get it, and need not be 
obliged to appear, when the conductor comes, as if it was a 
perfect surprise to you that he should ask for it. 
10 



146 HOME TOPICS. 

Of course, you have a right to the best seat which is vacant, 
and, if there is plenty of room, you can put your bundles 
beside or opposite you ; but remember that you have only 
paid for one seat, and be ready at once to make room for 
another passenger, if necessary, without acting as though you 
were conferring a favor. 

If you have several packages, and wish to put any of them 
in the rack over your head, you will be less likely to forget 
them if you put all together, than you will if you keep a part 
in your hand. 

If you must read in the cars, never in any circumstances 
take a book that has not fair, clear type ; and stop reading at 
the earliest approach of twilight. If, as you read, you hold 
your ticket, or some other plain piece of paper, under the line 
you are reading, sliding it down as you proceed, you will find 
that you can read almost as rapidly, and with much less injury 
to your eyes. A newspaper is the worst reading you can have, 
as the print is usually indistinct, and it is impossible to hold 
it still. 

You may not care to read in the cars when in motion, but 
it is convenient to have a book with you, in case the train 
should be delayed. 

If your friends accompany you to the station, be careful 
that your last words are not too personal or too loud. Young 
people are apt to overlook this, and thus sometimes make 
themselves ridiculous before the other passengers by joking and 
laughing in a way which might be perfectly proper at home, 
but which before a company of strangers is not in good taste. 

If you meet acquaintances, do not call out their names so 
distinctly as to introduce them to the other passengers, as it is 
never pleasant for people to have the attention of strangers 
called to them in that way. If you are alone, do not be too 
ready to make acquaintances. Reply politely to any civil 
remark or offer of assistance ; but do not allow yourself to be 
drawn into conversation, unless it is with some one of whose 
trustworthiness you are reasonably sure, and even then do not 
forget that you arc talking to a perfect stranger. 



HOW TO TRAVEL. 1 47 

If you cannot have everything just as you prefer, remem- 
ber that you are in a pubhc conveyance, and that the other 
passengers have as much right to their way as you have to 
yours. If you find that your open window annoys your neigh- 
bor, do not refuse to shut it; and if the case is reversed, do not 
complain, unless you are really afraid of taking cold, and can- 
not conveniently change your seat. Above all things, do not 
get into a dispute about it, Hke the two women, one of whom 
declared that she should die if the window was open, and the 
other responded that she should stifle if it was shut, until one 
of the passengers requested the conductor to open it awhile 
and kill one, and then shut it and kill the other, that the rest 
might have peace. 

There are few situations where the disposition is more 
thoroughly shown than it is in traveling. A long journey is 
considered by some people to be a perfect test of the temper. 
There are many ways in which an unselfish person will find an 
opportunity to be obliging. It is surprising to see how people 
who consider themselves kind and polite members of society 
can sometimes forget all their good manners in the cars, show- 
ing a perfect disregard of the comfort — and even the rights — 
of others, which would banish them from decent society if 
shown elsewhere. 

To return to particular directions : do not entertain those 
who are traveling with you by constant complaints of the dust, 
or the heat, or the cold. The others are probably as much 
annoyed by these things as you are, and fault-finding will only 
make them the more unpleasant to all. Be careful what you 
say about those near you, as a thoughtless remark to a friend 
in too loud a tone may cause a real heart-ache. Many a weary 
mother has been pained by hearing complaints of a fretful 
child, whose crying most probably distresses her more than 
any one else. Instead of saying, **Why will people travel with 
babies ? " remember that it is sometimes unavoidable, and do 
not disfigure your face by a frown at the disturbance, but try 
to do what you can to make the journey pleasant for those 
around you, at least by a serene and cheerful face. A person 



14^ HOME TOPICS. 

who really wishes to be helpful to others, will find plenty of 
opportunities to *' lend a hand " without becoming conspicuous 
in any way. 

Do not ask too many questions of other passengers. Keep 
your eyes and ears open, and you will know as much as the 
'rest do. If you wish to inquire about anything, let it be of 
the conductor, whose business it is to answer you, and do not 
detain him unnecessarily. Remember what he tells you, 
that you may not be like the woman Gail Hamilton describes^ 
who asked the conductor the same question every time he 
came around, as if she thought he had undergone a moral 
change during his absence, and might answer her more truth- 
fully. 

If you get out of the car at any station on your way, be 
sure to observe which car it was, and which train, so that you 
need not go about inquiring where you belong when you wish 
to return to your seat. 

A large proportion of the accidents which happen every 
year are caused by carelessness. Young people are afraid of 
seeming timid and anxious, and will sometimes, in avoiding 
this, risk their lives very foolishly. They step from the train 
before it has fairly stopped, or put their heads out of the win- 
dow when the car is in motion, or rest the elbow on the sill 
of an open window in such a way that a passing train may 
cause serious, if not fatal, injury. Sometimes they pass care- 
lessly from one car to another when the train is still, forgetting 
that it may start at any moment and throw them off their bal- 
ance. Many similar exposures can be avoided by a little care 
and thought. 

These are very plain, simple rules, which it may be sup- 
posed are already known to every one ; but a little observation 
will show that they are not always put in practice. 

A great deal has been left unsaid here on the advantages 
and pleasures of travel ; but without a knowledge of the 
simple details we have given, one will be sure to ,miss much 
of the culture and enjoyment which might otherwise be gained 
by it. 



HINTS FOR THE SUMMER VACATION. I49 

HINTS FOR THE SUMMER VACATION'. 

FIRST. If there be any weakly children in the family, 
make an effort to find a boarding-place near a river or 
lake, and give them a boat and oars (with due regard for their 
safety, of course). There can be no healthier pastime for boys 
or girls of dyspeptic or consumptive tendencies than paddling 
the summer away in a light skiff. We know of more than one 
child — a few years ago narrow-chested, pale, stooped-shoul- 
dered, subject to incessant headaches in school, who is now 
broad-breasted and ruddy, simply from the exercise of rowing 
during the summer months. 

Secondly. Pack up all the finery of both girls and boys 
and — leave it at home. Have stout, weU-fitting shoes made 
for them to order, without heels. Clothe the whole of them 
in flannel. Navy blue at forty- five or fifty cents per yard is 
the best. Pretty and cheap loose-fitting suits of this are the 
most artistic dress for child or adult on the sea-side, hills, or 
wherever tramping, and sudden showers, and downright fun 
are the rule. Flannel is, by all odds, the coolest dress to wear 
in the hot season, and an almost certain preventive of colds, 
neuralgia, etc. 

Thirdly. If there are boys, you will find it a wise invest- 
ment to spend six or eight dollars for a shelter tent. They 
could sleep in it, if necessary, with benefit to health ; but, in 
any case, they can carry it to lonely solitudes back of the 
barn, or up on the mountain, and camp out all day and night, 
cooking their own meals and keeping up a watch-fire. 

Fourthly. Provide, for rainy days, a checker-board, decal- 
comanie pictures, story-books, and especially good-humor. 
A family stranded upon the barren shore of a farm-house with 
nothing but their trunks is a spectacle not edifying to gods 
or men. 



I50 HOME TOPICS. 

CAMPING OUT. 

IN the first warm days of summer every one who lives in 
town turns with longing eyes, and lungs that prophetically 
breathe the miasma and heat and dust of August, to mount- 
ain or sea beach. The girls bring in to dinner accounts of 
the Browns' intended campaign to Saratoga, of the Whites' 
tour to the Lakes. Mamma looks at Jane's thin cheeks, or the 
baby's pale lips ; the father of the family goes down street 
hopelessly counting the cost of hotel bills at the Branch, or 
groans at the remembrance of last summer's broiling in a 
road-side farm-house, with the fare of everlasting bacon and 
cabbage, and the all-pervading odor of piggery and soap-suds. 
Now let us suggest again, to bring rest to these troubled souls, 
a plan which is rapidly growing in favor with many cultured 
people who really wish rest in summer, and go out of town to 
find health and nature, and not fashion and more anxious- 
swarming crowds than those left behind. We mean camping 
out. A tent, or two if necessary, can be either bought or 
hired for the summer, and transported with small cost. Excel- 
lent portable beds are packed in traveling bags, and sold for 
five dollars, which will last a life-time. The tents can be 
pitched on the beach, in the Virginia or White Mountains, on a 
Minnesota prairie, within sight of a dozen lakes set like pearls; 
in the Unaka range, where the bears will sociably visit the 
camp-fire; or on Hudson's Bay, where there will be the zest 
of a nip of Arctic cold — and all for the cost of transportation. 
A bag or two of flour, coffee, and sugar are all the provisions 
needed. The men of the party can furnish trout, sea-fish, 
venison, etc., etc., and the women can cook them. We would 
advise, for a stay of a month or two, that servants be left 
behind, and the whole family go back as far as possible to 
natural conditions of life. In cases where easy access to the 
city is desired, the better plan is to camp on the Jersey beach, 
near enough the sea to escape mosquitoes, and within a 
half-hour's walk of a railroad station. An almost absolute 
solitude is attainable in many portions of the coast, and every- 



ONE WAY TO SPEND THE SUMMER. 151 

where fish, snipe, and crabs, for the taking. People who are 
above conventionaUty, and who have a lucky drop of vaga- 
bond blood in their veins, will, of course, find the keenest 
enjoyment in this mode of passing the summer, but everybody 
will find it healthful and cheap. 



ONE WAY TO SPEND THE SUMMER 
IN THE COUNTRY. 

WITH the warm days of spring comes the question, ''What 
shall we do with the children this summer?" A cele- 
brated physician has told me that children in the city very 
often get through the summer as well as those who have been 
in the country, but that in the fall they do not show the same 
power in resisting disease. But what are we to do with them 
— where take them ? The whole country is full of resorts — 
from great watering-places to private boarding-houses. Who, 
after trying them all, has not had a longing for a country 
home of one's own? And who has not given up the thought 
as entirely out of the question, except for very rich people ? 
But it is not for the rich that I am induced to relate my 
unique experience of keeping house for the summer in the 
country. 

Two years ago I had tried every experiment, except a 
country home of our own. We had been in Europe for two 
summers, but had come home that the children might be put 
to school ; I had taken them to Bedford and Berkeley, and 
the White Sulphur Springs, and had tried the sea-shore, 
boarding-houses, and private country farms (the last by far 
the most desirable), but to all these I had found serious objec- 
tions. For years I had longed for a country home of my 
own, but every one opposed me. I have been told that 
generally the prominent men in our cities have been born 



152 HOME TOPICS. 

in the country, but that the next generation is almost 
sure to deteriorate. The conditions of city Hfe are such that 
there seems no escape from this, and this was my principal 
reason for desiring a country home. I thought nothing else 
would give my boys a chance in life. I wanted them to 
rough it, and learn bravely to meet and overcome difficulties. 
I dreaded to find them deteriorating. My older boy was 
thirteen — delicate, pale, and overgrown. When out of school 
he lived in his workshop with his tools. The younger one 
read continually. They had the city boys' meager range of 
play, with no hardy exercise, and but little fun. 

In June of 1875 I heard that a cousin had bought a farm 
of about one hundred acres adjoining his own property, and 
as I knew he was not going to use the house himself, I wrote 
and offered to buy it, with some ten or twenty acres. He 
refused to sell, but was willing to rent if I could live in the 
house. Being desperate, I was willing to go into any kind of 
a house that kept out rain and snakes. 

We went together to examine the house, and found it in 
almost a ruinous condition. The out-buildings were equally 
bad, and an old corn-house was at the foot of the lawn, 
directly before the door. The distance from the city was 
twenty-five miles by rail, and from the station to the house 
was but half a mile. The healthfulness of the place was 
undoubted. The house was on a high hill, with a lovely view 
of a well-cultivated country. There was a spring of delicious 
cold water three hundred feet off, but it was eighty-three feet 
below the level of the house. A stone dairy was next to the 
spring, and up above, near the kitchen, was an ice-house full 
of ice. The house consisted of five rooms in a row, with a 
porch running its entire length — I may say porches, for the 
floors were on different levels, and of plank, brick, and stone. 
The roofs were not of the same height nor pitch. Above, for 
the length of two of the second-story rooms, was a very 
comfortable and roomy porch, with a roof that overhung so 
low as to keep off much of the glare of the sky. ' Only three 
bedrooms on the second floor could be made habitable. Lead- 



ONE WAY TO SPEND THE SUMMER. 153 

ing to the house was an avenue of locust-trees. One side of 
this avenue swept around the foot of the yard, and the other 
immediately before the house. These trees, with a magnificent 
willow, made considerable shade. 

My cousin, Judge Snowden, thought it would be impos- 
sible for me to live in such a house, but I very well knew 
it would be this or none. I was not equal to going 
among strangers searching for another, so I told him I would 
try it. 

He agreed to paint the inside, paper two rooms, whitewash 
everywhere, put down a new floor to the main porch, and 
clean up generally. The rent was to be $150 for fifteen 
months, which included two summers. I was to use the 
pasture-field, have all the fruit I could find, and do as I chose 
so I did not interfere with the farming operations. This was 
July 1st, and we were to move up on the loth. Knowing it 
was only an experiment, I was careful to furnish in the simplest 
manner. It is really astonishing how little is needed to 
make one comfortable in summer. Two furniture wagons well 
packed carried nearly all that we needed. On the cars I sent 
up the kitchen stove, refrigerator, barrel of flour, and boxes of 
china, groceries, and hams. Except the first two, a kitchen 
safe, a few bedsteads, and the heavy kitchen utensils, I bought 
everything new (of course pillows, feather-beds to make the 
mattresses more comfortable, tubs, etc., were carried up and 
down spring and fall). The entire cost of the new articles, in- 
cluding chairs, benches, tins, china, bedsteads, mattresses, and 
a very excellent walnut dining-table with ten leaves that I 
found at a second-hand store, was $92.37. The freight on 
everything by wagon and by rail was $24.75, making in all 
$117.12. The floor of the large parlor, which we used as a 
dining-room, was covered with a Brussels carpet that I had 
used in the city and put aside ; in the country it looked almost 
new. At each window was hung a paper blind that cost but 
eight cents. I pasted over a hem on each side, a strip of 
muslin across the top, and a stick in the bottom, and the 
curtains have lasted well. New Swiss muslin curtains hung 



154 HOME TOPICS. 

over these gave the dining-room a look of refinement, and a 
bright red cover over the table, with a student's lamp at night, 
gave it a look of cheer. 

Two rooms on each side of this dining-room I used as 
chambers. They were also attractive. I had carried up a 
drugget and some rugs to be scattered about. Beds well 
made, with clean Hnen sheets and pure Marseilles quilts, give 
an air of comfort to any room. Across the lower sashes were 
hung ruffles of Swiss muslin, so light that the least current of 
air could blow them back and forth. There was nothing of 
any cost, but all suggestive of comfort. For wash-stands and 
dressing-tables, the boys turned barrels bottom upward, and 
nailed upon each one a few short planks. By tacking a 
ruffle of red curtain calico around to hide the barrel, and 
then covering the top with a clean towel, the rooms were 
still further furnished. 

The boys also took the large boxes in which had come the 
groceries and china, and by standing them on end and fitting 
the tops within as shelves, made very convenient places for 
clothing. Several of these boxes, nailed securely to the pantry 
wall, with supports underneath, served as china closets. In 
every room we had a tin basin and dipper, which the girl 
kept looking like silver ; a tin candlestick, a white wooden 
bucket for clean, and a painted one for waste, water. The 
buckets were kept sweet by constant scrubbing and airing. I 
am sure we all appreciated these crude arrangements far more 
than we did the rosewood furniture at home. Nothing could 
have been more simple, or more comfortable. 

One idea I had in having a country home, was to gather in 
all the children of our families. Brothers and sisters grow up 
together united. They finally marry and separate. Then 
their children, from being apart, know but little of one another, 
and the strong family feeling that existed among the parents 
finds no place among the offspring. Then, too, petty jealousies 
spring up, which can only be avoided by mutual intercourse. 
I hoped to make my homo common ground for all my nephews 
and nieces, of whom there were about twenty. These children, 



ONE WAY TO SPEND THE SUMMER. !$$> 

as in all large families, were differently situated in life. I 
wished to bind them together by common pursuits and amuse- 
ments, so that their future lives might be influenced for their 
mutual good. I wanted the boys to go swimming together in 
the river that ran by at the railway station, to play ball, to. 
milk the cows, to race rabbits, and to grow hardy and self- 
reliant in an honest rivalry of outdoor life. 

The expenses of the first summer at my country home were 
$445.52. This included rent, fuel, hire of cow, the furnishing 
of the house, and, in fact, every expense of every sort and 
description. I economized in nothing essential. The table 
was most abundant, and of the very best. A butcher came 
twice a week, and he always saved for me his best cuts. The 
price of meat was much less than in the city, and since the 
cattle were not overdriven,- we found the quality of country 
beef better than that of the city. Chickens were our main 
dependence, and I kept from ten to twelve dozen running 
around to grow and fatten.* Milk, fresh eggs, and good butter 
we had in abundance. For the hire of a little heifer for the 
nine and one-half weeks of our stay (July 10 to September 15), 
I was charged three dollars, and twenty cents per gallon for 
extra milk. The second year, for two cows for fourteen wrecks, 
I paid ten dollars. They did not give a great quantity of milk,, 
but it was as much as we could use. My boys, with two 
cousins about the same age, milked the heifer, took entire 
charge of horse and carriage, and hauled all the water (except 
for drinking) up the hill in a barrel. They never seemed to 
grow discouraged, but were proud of what they could do. 
The heifer was so wild at first that I was twice obliged to have 
a man come and milk her ; but finally, by feeding her on corn, 
brushing off the flies, and treating her very gently, the boys 
made her perfectly tame and quiet. They were very happy 
over their success, and each afternoon took great delight in 
giving all the children as much warm milk as they could drink. 

* They were never eaten until after being kept in a cleansing coop a 
week. This makes the greatest difference in the quaUty of the meat, for 
chickenS; unlike turkeys, will eat all sorts of unclean things. 



156 HOME TOPICS. 

Nothing is lighter and more nourishing for children than fresh, 
warm milk. 

During this first summer our number varied, from my own 
family of four and two servants, to as many as fifteen. Almost 
every Saturday some of the family would come up to see after 
the children, and remain until Monday. These visits gave us 
all great pleasure. We were never happier, and the children 
all improved in health. 

During the heat of the day, while the little ones were 
asleep, I read aloud. My children had been trained to love 
Shakespeare. After I had read them four historical plays, com- 
mencing with *' Richard II.," I could turn back to some part 
at random, and when I had read five or six lines, they could 
tell me the speaker, the whole scene, and in which play it was. 
When I reread the plays the second summer, they recollected 
far more than I did, and could always tell me what was coming 
next. The trouble was with the other children, who had not 
been trained in the same habits of thought and attention. I 
read to them *'Tom Brown at Rugby," and w^e had a little 
botany, which two of the boys delighted in, but the others 
hated. They would say, *' Now, please, give us a feast of 
Shakespeare." After dinner the grown members of the family 
studied a work on architecture, and I always examined them 
one day on what had been read the day before. The second 
summer we had Kinglake's '* Crimean War," which helped us 
to understand the news in the daily papers. Old sets of 
" Littell's Living Age," in loose numbers, were very valuable, 
and we found in them many articles on the " Eastern Ques- 
tion." I have found that, to make reading aloud profitable to 
children, it is necessary to talk over every part. Read a few 
lines and then ask them the meaning. Get their curiosity ex- 
cited as to what comes next, and ask what they would do under 
the same circumstances. I know of nothing more pleasant than 
reading to children in this way. It takes time and patience, 
but they can be taught to be interested in almost anything. 

We had no neighbors except Judge Snowdcn's family, and 
we never felt the need of any more. The days seemed short, 



ONE WAY TO SPEND THE SUMMER. 1 57 

and flew by in constant change of pleasant occupations. The 
boys became adepts in swimming and rowing, and once a 
week would drive the carriage into the river to give it a good 
washing. They never neglected greasing the wheels or washing 
the harness. There was a pasture-field of forty acres for both 
horse and cow; but the horse was fed twice a day on corn 
which the boys bought from the neighbors. The carriage was. 
a pleasure, but not at all a necessity ; being near the cars, I 
preferred having none, but my family would not consent. The 
stable was useless, for both horse and cow lived in the pasture, 
only sometimes taking refuge from storms by going under 
the carriage-shed. We burned wood in profusion, and generally 
had a little fire burning on the dining-room hearth. I thought 
this kept the house dry and healthy. There was never the 
least sickness among the children. They ate heartily and slept: 
well. We had breakfast every morning at quarter after six, 
and family prayer at nine, after the rush of morning work was 
over. The little children were never wakened for breakfast. 
On Sunday, there being no church near, we had the Episcopal 
service at home, and it was touching to see such a number of 
children joining in the worship. Never, either during the week 
or on Sunday, were the servants excused from being present. 
If they were not ready, we waited until they were. 

On leaving the house in the fall, everything was carried 
either into the upper rooms or into the dry cellar. The paper 
blinds were rolled up high out of sight, and every window 
nailed down. Two objects were gained by this. The sun- 
shine had free access to keep the house dry and pure, and 
tramps, by looking in at their pleasure and only seeing empty 
rooms, would be apt to wander farther on. When we went 
back. May 25 th of the following year, we found everything in 
good order and undisturbed. 

This second summer, the farmer from whom we had 
bought vegetables the year before having moved away, we 
concluded to have a garden of our own. I hired a man to plow 
and put the barren ground in order. After this was done and 
all the seeds were planted, — with the exception of two days' 



158 HOME TOPICS. 

hoeing by this man, — the boys did all the work in raising the 
vegetables. As the weather grew warm I limited them to one 
hour in the early morning, and on the warmest days I kept 
them entirely out of it. Never was there a common country- 
garden more free from weeds, and never were there boys more 
pleased or interested. To give my older son's own im- 
pressions, I copy from a letter he wrote to his sister in 
August, while she was away on a trip to Niagara and else- 
where : 

"Dear Sister: You ought to see our little chickens, ten of them, 
little beauties. We had twelve, but two died. We are getting seven veg- 
etables out of the garden, — cymlings, corn, cabbage, tomatoes, onions, 
string-beans, and beets, and we have one egg-plant the size of two eggs. Is 
not that a nice lot ? All the birds are molting, and so none of them sing. 
Nell has lost all her tail-feathers, but they are growing out again. You 
don't know how much I want to see you. You have been away so long. 
We are going to have thirty-three ears of com for dinner; is not that a lot? 
The mocking-bird has to stay on the porch all the time, for he sings all 
night. Little Robby can walk from one end of the porch to the other. 
When he is out in his carriage we have to keep billy-goat tied, for fear he 
might butt him over. I write so little now that my hand fairly aches. 

''YOUR AFFECTIONATE BROTHER." 

Attached to this letter was one from myself, from which I 
shall copy portions to show how we lived : 

'' Your aunt Mary and baby are up for a visit of two weeks. We have 
delightful meals. I have lately bought six dozen chickens, and we have all 
the most delicious vegetables, and cream from two cows. W'e skim two 
crocks of milk for dinner, one for supper, and one for breakfast. Then we 
have the richest cottage-cheese made yellow with cream, and plenty of 
cooked apples and stewed pears. Every meal is abundant, and the chil- 
dren eat with natural, healthy appetites. This country air is toning them 
all up. The ice is out, but we have had the dairy cleaned and use that. 
You know how icy cold the water is ; it keeps everything cold and sweet. 
In spite of the steep hill, I delight in going down to skim the cream and 
help Chloe up with the butter and milk. Each of the children tries to 
carry something, and then I tell them we could hardly get along but for 
their help. Kitty never murmurs at pulling fat Alexander up with one 
hand, though in the other she has a bucket of water. John is here grub- 
bing up the old currant-bushes, and getting one end of the garden cleared 
for strawberries, which the boys will plant in September. We want to put 



ONE WAY TO SPEND THE SUMMER. 1 59 

in a quantity of blackberry and raspberry vines this fall.^ * * * Your 
aunt Mary thinks her httle girls very much improved. I am so glad to 
have a chance to help them grow up to be healthy girls. They have been 
here over two months now, and I shall try to keep them till September, or 
perhaps till I go down. * * * You ought to see the new dormitory. 
It is the long garret, with two new windows cut in one end. It is airy and 
comfortable. Every night I go up to see the five boys in bed, and every 
time I am glad they are in such good healthy quarters. * * * 

''The boys collect all the vegetables, and take great pride in them 
after their months of labor. The pigeons are so tame now that they come 
when the boys call them, and eat around their feet, and under their 
chairs." 

I have found that with all children it is necessary to 
throw yourself into their pursuits, and when their interest 
flags, take the lead yourself. Nothing helped our boys in 
the garden like going out myself with a hoe. Soon all would 
follow, and then when once they were started and interested 
I could leave. It was far better than finding fault with them. 
But the trouble was, I would become so interested myself that 
I could not stop. The exercise certainly was good, and the 
boys loved to have my interest in the growth of every vege- 
table. They measured a water-melon so often, to see its daily 
growth, that they broke its stem by constant lifting. I had 
to look every day at the marks on the poles which showed 
the growth of the beans, a general interest being felt to see 
which would reach the top first. 

About once in two weeks we had a party, and called it 
a '^ fete champetrey Though the Snowden children came two 
and three times a week, and often stopped to supper, — for 
I found the larger the family, the more convenient it was 
to have them stay, — still the high-sounding name, and the 
formal invitation to them and to two other little children, 
madb the greatest difference to them all. The only addition 
to the supper was cake, the making of which was watched 
by all the children. The girls were in their best percales, 
with sashes, which were held in reserve for these great occa- 
sions. On the Fourth of July we had a display of flags in 
the day and of fire-works at night. 



l6o HOME TOPICS. 

This second summer was as successful as the first. Our 
last week, when the family was small, was mem.orable by my 
boys making nine pounds of delicious butter in four churnings. 
They made the churn out of a stone jar, and by placing it in a 
crock of cold water, which water they constantly changed, the 
butter came yellow and firm. Their pleasure at the result was 
delightful to see. 

We left September 2d, very unwillingly ; but the children 
had to come home for school and for their visit to the Centen- 
nial. We were all in good health, and we had lived innocent 
lives. 

For weeks there were fifteen in the family, and for a short 
time nineteen. As before, I had economized in nothing, and 
we lived in abundance. The entire cost for the fourteen weeks 
w^as $542.32. 

Now, in these warm days, we are again with longing eyes 
looking to our country home. The boys are collecting eggs, 
preparatory to setting their hens. They hope to go up in May 
with about fifty little chickens. Last spring I paid for one 
black rooster and six black hens, $5.25. From the i8th of 
April till the i8th of June the hens laid one hundred and 
ninety eggs, and they have been at it ever since, only stopping 
for a few weeks about Christmas. The boys are now buying 
more pigeons to add to their country stock, and I am glad to 
see them interested in anything that will take them out of their 
workshop into the fresh air. They expect to raise ducks and 
geese from eggs they will put under their hens. A farmer has 
an order to save some partridge eggs, should he find a nest. 
They hope to hatch them and have some tiny birds. 

I have taken the place again at the same price, — $120 the 
year until next October, — with the privilege of three more 
years, if I continue satisfied. Going as early as May, the chil- 
dren will come into the city every day for school. The rail- 
road fare will be $5.00 a month for each child. 

I only dread the trouble with the water, and long to have 
an arrangement by which it can be drawn up in a bucket sus- 
pended from a wire. This plan is in successful operation in 



AN AGREEABLE GUEST. l6l 

many places, but I cannot find out who puts them up, or where 
the castings can be had. 

I have now told my story, hoping that when parents see 
how simple a thing it really can be made, — this having a coun- 
try home of one's own, — and what great advantages it pos- 
sesses, many will, for the sake of their children, take it into 
serious consideration. 



AN AGREEABLE GUEST. 

THE longest visit that we read of in modern days was one 
which Dr. Isaac Watts made at Lord Abney's, in the Isle 
of Wight. He went to spend a fortnight, but they made him 
so happy that he remained a beloved and honored guest for 
forty years. 

Few of us would care to make so long a visit as that, but it 
might be worth the while for us all to try and learn the secret 
of making ourselves agreeable and welcome guests. To have 
"a nice time" when one is visiting is delightful, but to leave 
behind us a pleasant impression is worth a great deal more. 

An agreeable guest is a title which any one may be proud 
to deserve. A great many people, with the best intentions 
and the kindest hearts, never receive it, simply because they 
have never considered the subject, and really do not know 
how to make their stay in another person's home a pleasure 
instead of an inconvenience. If you are one of these thought- 
less ones, you may be sure that, although your friends are 
glad to see you happy, and may enjoy your visit on that 
account, your departure will be followed with a sigh of relief, 
as the family settle down to their usual occupations, saying, if 
not thinking, that they are glad the visit is over. 

A great many different qualities and habits go to make up 
the character of one whom people are always glad to see, and 
these last must be proved while we are young, if Ave expect to 
II 



l62 HOME TOPICS. 

wear them gracefully. A young person whose presence in the 
house is an inconvenience and a weariness at fifteen, is seldom 
a welcome visitor in after-life. 

The two most important characteristics of a guest are tact 
and observation, and these will lead you to notice and do just 
what will give pleasure to your friends in their different opin- 
ions and ways of living. Apply in its best sense the maxim, 
"When you are in Rome, do as the Romans do." 

Unless you have some good reason for not doing so, let 
your friends know the day, and, if possible, the hour when you 
expect to arrive. Surprises are very well in their way, but 
there are few households in which it is quite convenient to 
have a friend drop in without warning for a protracted visit. 
If they know that you are coming, they will have the pleasure 
of preparing for you and looking forward to your arrival, 
and you will not feel that you are disturbing any previous 
arrangements which they have made for the day. 

Let your friends know, if possible, soon after you arrive, 
about how long you mean to stay with them, as they might 
not like to ask the question, and would still find it convenient 
to know whether your visit is to have a duration of three days 
or three weeks. Take with you some work that you have 
already begun, or some book that you are reading, that you 
may be agreeably employed when your hostess is engaged with 
her own affairs, and not be sitting about idle, as if waiting to be 
entertained, when her time is necessarily taken up with some- 
thing else. Make her feel that, for a small part at least of 
every day, no one needs to have any responsibility about 
amusing you. 

A lady who is charming as a guest and as a hostess once 
said to me: *' I never take a nap in the afternoon when I am 
at home, but I do when I am visiting, because I know what a 
relief it has sometimes been to me to have company lie down 
for a little while, after dinner." 

Try, without being too familiar, to make yourself so much 
like one of the family that no one shall feel you to be in the 
way; and, at the same time, be observant of those small 



AN AGREEABLE GUEST. 1 63 

courtesies and kindnesses which all together make up what the 
world agrees to call good manners. 

Regulate your hours of rising and retiring by the customs 
of the house. Do not keep your friends sitting up until later 
than usual, and do not be roaming about the house an hour or 
two before breakfast. If you choose to rise at an early hour, 
remain in your own room until near breakfast- time, unless you 
are very sure that your presence in the parlor will not be 
unwelcome. Write in large letters, in a prominent place in 
your mind, "Be PUNCTUAL." A visitor has no excuse for 
keeping a whole family waiting, and it is unpardonable negli- 
gence not to be prompt at the table. Here is a place to test 
good manners, and any manifestation of ill-breeding here will 
be noticed and remembered. Do not be too ready to express 
your likes and dislikes for the various dishes before you. The 
wife of a certain United States Senator, once visiting acquaint- 
ances at some distance from her native wilds, made a lasting 
impression upon the family by remarking at the breakfast- 
table that " she should starve before she would eat mush," and 
that she ''never heard of cooking mutton before she came 
East." 

If you are tempted to go to the other extreme, and sacri- 
fice truth to politeness, read Mrs. Opie's *' Tale of Potted 
Sprats," and you will not be likely to be insincere again. 

It is well to remember that some things which seem of very 
little importance to you may make an unpleasant impression 
upon others, in consequence of a difference in early training. 
The other day, two young ladies were heard discussing a gen- 
tleman who had a great many pleasant qualities. ''Yes," said 
one, " he is very handsome, but he does eat pie with his knife." 
Take care that no trifle of that kind is recalled when people 
are speaking of you. 

Keep your own room in order, and do not scatter your 
belongings all over the house. If your friends are orderly, it 
will annoy them to see your things out of place ; and if they 
are not, their own disorder will be enough without adding 
yours. 



l64 HOME TOPICS. 

Make up your mind to be entertained with what is de- 
signed to entertain you. If your friends invite you to join 
them in an excursion, express your pleasure and readiness to 
go, and do not act as though you were conferring a favor 
instead of receiving one. No visitors are so wearisome as 
those who do not meet half-way whatever proposals are made 
for their pleasure. Be contented to amuse yourself quietly 
in the house, or to join in any outside gayeties to which 
you are invited, and show by your manner that you enjoy- 
both. 

If games are proposed, do not say that you will not play, 
or ''would rather look on " ; but join with the rest, and do the 
best you can. Never let a foolish feeling of pride, lest you 
should not make so good an appearance as the others, prevent 
your trying. 

If you are not skillful, you will at least show that you are 
good-natured, and that you do not think yourself modest when 
you are only proud. 

If you have any skill in head or fingers, you will never 
have a better time to use it than when you are visiting; only, 
whatever you do, do well, and do not urge your offers of 
assistance after you see that it is not really desired. Mrs. Poy- 
ser, who is one of George Eliot's best characters, says : " Folks 
as have no mind to be o' use have allays the luck to be out o' 
the road when there 's anything to be done." If you do not 
find any place to be useful, you may be tolerably sure that it 
is your own fault. 

I heard a gentleman say of a young lady whose small affec- 
tations were undergoing a sharp criticism : '' Well, whatever 
you may say of her, she is certainly more ready to make her- 
self useful than any other young lady who visits here. If I 
lose my glasses, or mislay the newspaper, or want a stitch 
taken, she is always ready." And I shall never forget the 
impression which a young lady made upon me, as I saw her 
sit idly rocking backward and forward, complacently surveying 
the young friends she was visiting as they were hurrying to 
finish peeling a basket of peaches. 



AN AGREEABLE GUEST. 165 

While visiting, remember that you meet many who are 
strangers to you, and do not seem to you especially attractive, 
but who may still be dear and valued friends of the family ; 
and be cautious about making criticisms upon them. Be 
friendly and cordial toward those whom you meet, and try to 
show that you are ready to like them. Whatever peculiarities 
you may observe, either in the family or its guests, which 
strike you as amusing, be careful that you do not sin against 
the law of love by repeating little things to their disad- 
vantage, which you have found out while you were admitted 
to the sanctuary of the home. 

Do not ask questions which people would rather not 
answer, and be careful not to speak of anything which will 
bring up painful recollections, or be likely to cause unpleasant 
forebodings. The old proverb expresses this in few words : 
" Never mention a rope in the family of a man who has been 
hanged." 

If your own home is in any way better and handsomer 
than your friends', do not say anything which may seem like 
making invidious comparisons, or allow them to see that you 
miss any of the conveniences to which you have been accus- 
tomed. 

Be careful about making any unnecessary work for others, 
and do not ask even the servants to do for you anything 
which you ought to do for yourself The family had their time 
filled up before you came, and, do what you will, you are an 
extra one, and will make some difference. 

Provide yourself, before you leave home, with whatever 
small supplies you are Hkely to need, so that you need not be 
borrowing ink, pens, paper, envelopes, postage-stamps, etc. 

It may seem unnecessary to speak of the need of taking 
due care of the property of others, but having just seen a 
young lady leaning forward with both elbows upon the open 
pages of a handsome volume which was resting upon her 
knees, I venture to suggest that you do not leave any marred 
wail, or defaced book, or ink-stains, or mark of a wet tumbler, 
to remind your friends of your visit long after it has ended. 



l66 HOME TOPICS. 

Do not forget, when you go away, to express your appre- 
ciation of the kindness which has been shown you, and when 
you reach home inform your friends by letter of your safe 
arrival. 

If you follow faithfully these few suggestions, you will 
probably be invited to go again; and if you do not thank me 
for telling you these plain truths, perhaps the friends whom 
you visit will be duly grateful. 



HOW THE MONEY WAS MADE FOR HER 
SUMMER'S JOURNEY. 

WHEN Miss Eliot went last summer from New York to 
Boston by sea, and from there to Prince Edward's 
Island, her friends said that it was evident that the lessons she 
had given in drawing had paid her, or she could not have 
afforded the trip. When they heard her glowing stories of what 
she had seen, and had looked over her sketches, they all wished 
they could take the same trip ; but to travel they must have 
money. They were partly right about the drawing-lessons, 
for they certainly helped her to be independent; but this trip 
was rather the result of discrimination in outlay than any 
increase in income, as her father had given her the money for 
the journey. The family had always been in the habit of going 
away in the summer, so Miss Eliot knew most popular resorts 
and many pleasant farm-houses by heart, but she had never 
traveled. This summer, however, she was tired ; she longed 
for a sea voyage, and for freer, more active life than she would 
have if she went with her mother and sister to Long Branch. 
So she thought about it. She had some faith in the possibility 
of good things, and she was experienced enough to know that 
the real cost of a summer campaign is more often in the 
preparation for it than in the campaign itself. The Eliot girls 



HOW THE MONEY WAS MADE. 167 

could not afford expensive clothes, but they would not have 
thought of going to Long Branch without some special prepa- 
ration, and so Miss Eliot did a little rough sum for herself: 

Summer silk dress, about $25.00 

Black grenadine " 22.00 

Pique overdress " 7.00 

Lawn dress " 4. 25 

Hat " 5-00 

Boots " 7-50 

$70.75 
This did not include the making up of her dresses, the 
altering of some old ones, possibly one more new one, and all 
the numerous items that go to make up a toilet. Of course 
these expenditures would be good as an investment for the 
future, but on the whole she determined to go to Prince 
Edward's, if her father was willing. When she talked to her 
sister about it, Margery preferred Long Branch and new clothes, 
but she did not object to keeping an account of what she spent 
in getting the clothes, and so it ended in her going to the sea- 
shore with $156.72 worth of new dresses, etc., while Miss 
Eliot started off on her trip with a gift from her father of the 
same amount in her red pocket-book, and some necessary 
but not new clothing in her small trunk. Upon this trunk, 
and her general outfit. Miss Eliot had expended no little 
thought in the direction of condensation. For her traveling 
dress she wore her brown de beige, but thinking that it might 
get wet or soiled, she packed a last summer's linen. Her 
brown hat she retrimmed ; her winter boots, too heavy for 
Long Branch, were just right for traveling ; her castor gloves 
she bought, and so, with her umbrella fastened to her side, and 
a soft blanket shawl and a gossamer water-proof in her shawl- 
strap, she was equipped for active service In her hand-valise 
she had a few necessary articles of clothing, including a chintz 
wrapper to wear at night on the sea, her brown Holland toilet- 
case, books, etc. In her trunk she put plenty of underwear, 
including light flannels, a black silk dress for hotel dinners if 
the weather should prove cool, and a French muslin overdress 



l68 HOME TOPICS. 

to wear with the skirt if it should be warm. She had pretty 
lace and ribbons, and some jewelry, and a pair of Newport ties. 

They went out to sea, and saw sunsets out of sight of land ; 
they sailed up the Bay of Fundy, and saw its rough and pict- 
uresque shores in the early morning light. She spent a day 
up the lovely river of St. John's. She sailed and sketched on 
the Gulf of St. Lawrence; and, coming home, she skirted the 
coast of Maine, and then bounced and rattled over its 
"smoothest road" as she spent a day in the stage-coach, 
going through its woods from Lubec to Machiasport. She 
saw Mount Desert, and brought home memories of its fine 
entrance, and saw a storm among the Isles of Shoals. 

At the hotels she had displayed no fine clothes, but she 
had appeared the more lady-like, and had certainly looked 
pretty in her silk and soft laces; and, in traveling, her own 
enjoyment had heightened the pleasure of her companions. 
When she counted up her expenses from her little note-book, 
where descriptions, statistics, sketches, and figures were all 
pleasantly mixed together, she found she had spent $178.33, 
so her scholars had helped her to $21.61 of the money. 

Margery was at home when her sister came back, and full 
of stories about the Madison girls and Bradley boys, and of 
drives and walks by the sea; but her stories grew common- 
place by the side of those that the traveler had to tell. So 
next summer Margery and her sister intend to make a trip 
together, and Miss Eliot thinks they can spend less money, 
and have even more fun. Such expeditions, it is true, do not 
replenish their wardrobes if the money has to be saved out of 
pretty dresses, but they argue that these pleasures endure in 
fashion for a Hfe-time, and that is more than can be said for 
Margery's pretty gray-and-black silk, which cost as much as 
the trip as far as St. John's, and already shows that it was 
made last year. 



SUGGESTIONS TO OCEAN TRAVELERS. 1 69 

SUGGESTIONS TO OCEAN TRAVELERS. 

THE traveler who intends to cross the ocean for the first 
time usually has some perplexity in selecting a line of 
steamers, and when he has decided upon the line, the per- 
plexity recurs in picking a desirable vessel out of its fleet. 
There are steaniers and steamers, — some uncomfortable ones 
in good lines, and some comfortable ones in bad hnes, and 
each line has two or three superior in size and speed to others 
of its fleet. The fastest attract the fullest complement of pas- 
sengers during the summer season, and applications for berths 
in them should be made at least five or six weeks before the 
intended sailing. But, unless time is more precious than it is 
likely to be with the tourist, or unless sea-sickness is felt to be 
inevitable, and the briefest possible voyage is the greatest de- 
sideratum, the writer would advise the selection of an unfash- 
ionable vessel — supposing, of course, that its unpopularity is 
the consequence, not of unsafety or antiquity, but, as is often 
the case, of inferior engine power. The steamers of a thou- 
sand horse-power which speed from Sandy Hook to Queens- 
town in eight days are invariably overcrowded in June and 
July ; two dinners are served daily in the saloon for different 
sets of passengers ; the stewards are so overworked that, be 
they angelically well disposed, they cannot give proper atten- 
tion to every passenger, and the decks are so thronged that 
promenading is next to impossible. But the steamers that are 
two or three days longer, accomplishing an easy two hundred 
and fifty miles a day, usually afford better state-rooms, and, in 
most particulars, greater comfort. 

The cost of the voyage varies from sixty to one hundred 
dollars ; but it is not less than eighty dollars in any of the 
first-class lines. One hundred dollars will secure an outside 
room for two persons, — that is, one hundred dollars each; 
and for eighty dollars a passage is given in an outside room 
containing four persons, or in an inside room containing two. 
The outside rooms are provided with ''ports" or windows 
which can be opened in smooth weather, and the occupants 



I70 HOME TOPICS. 

may dress in the summer mornings with an exhilarating 
breeze blowing in upon them from the sea ; while the inside 
rooms receive all their light and ventilation from the deck. 
But a room containing four is so exceedingly inconvenient, 
especially in tempestuous weather, that if the traveler Hmits 
his fare to eighty dollars, we advise him to take the inside 
room with one companion, although it is sure to be breeze- 
less in hot weather and dark at all times. Four persons 
endeavoring to dress in a space about eight feet square, when 
the vessel is pitching and rolling in the ''roaring forties," 
do not succeed without heroic patience and innumerable 
mishaps. 

The cool, fresh air admitted by the ports usually tempts the 
occupants of outside rooms to keep them open, and to com- 
plain when the stewards close them ; but it is never safe to 
retire without seeing that they are screwed up. 

The bath-room of the modern steamer is one of its great- 
est luxuries, but if there are many passengers, and especially 
if the passengers include a number of young Enghshmen or 
Canadians, to whom the morning **tub" is the invariable 
attendant of breakfast, it is necessary to see the bedroom 
steward as soon as you go on board, and have the hour 
recorded at which you want to bathe. The water is cold, but 
it is the veritable brine of mid-ocean, and the chill can be 
taken off by a can of hot fresh water, which the steward will 
obtain from the galley. 

The most important consideration, Jiowever, is the location 
of the state-room. In old-fashioned vessels all the sleeping 
accommodations are "aft," that is astern, where, naturally, the 
pitch of the steamer is most perceptible, and where, in heavy 
weather, the propeller, as it strikes the water, produces a con- 
cussion terrible to the nerves and annihilative of repose. But 
in the steamers of more recent construction, the saloon, ladies' 
cabin, and state-rooms are amidships, and if the traveler is 
solicitous about his comfort he will see to it that this is the 
case in the vessel which he selects for his voyage. Even 
when the rooms are amidships, there are discomforts peculiar 



SUGGESTIONS TO OCEAN TRAVELERS. 171 

to that arrangement; but if applications for berths are made 
in season, and if the plan of the steamer is consulted at the 
agent's office, a location may be obtained where the pulsations 
of the powerful engines are inaudible, and where in the heavi- 
est weather the only motion apparent is a gentle heaving. 
Choose a room some distance aft or forward of the engine, and 
see that it is not in proximity to the closets. At the same 
time, if the reader is fastidious, he should be prepared to 
pay for a first-class berth; while if he is nervous, seasick, and 
irritable, the best ship built will still seem uncomfortable. 

Having had a state-room assigned you, put as little as pos- 
sible into it. Any box or valise that is not absolutely wanted 
during the voyage should be stowed in the hold, and marked 
accordingly when it is sent to the wharf. Sensible and eco- 
nomical people do not 'Mress" at sea. Old clothes may be 
worn out on the voyage; new ones are sure to be spoiled by 
the sea air and the paint and grease which are prevalent on 
the cleanest ships afloat. Be fully prepared for extreme 
changes of temperature. Leaving New York, and for several 
days afterward, you may have warm weather, and suddenly a 
wintry cold may come which will necessitate woolen under- 
wear and over- wraps, — a transposition as familiar in July or 
August as in April or May. A hanging dressing-case of 
brown holland backed with oil-cloth, with pockets for sponge, 
comb and brush, etc., etc., is useful, and may be swung from 
the wall of your room. A steamer chair is also necessary for 
a lady or an elderly person, although it is superfluous to a 
strong young man. 

The seats at table are assigned either at the office of the 
company when the berth is engaged, or by the chief steward 
on board, and experienced travelers say that a position near 
the captain or purser is advantageous ; these officers usually 
select personal acquaintances for their nearest neighbors, and 
others who arc not of the elect have no more right to insist 
upon a particular seat than they have to take possession of a 
state-room which they have not engaged; however, they are 
sure to find every attention paid to their reasonable wishes. 



\J2 HOME TOPICS. 

As a matter of fact, one seat is not better than another ; the 
table is loaded, and the stewards are untiring in their cour- 
tesies. 

Before going on board, provide yourself with some loose 
silver and gold, as American currency is heavily discounted 
by the pursers. Be at the wharf at least an hour before the 
time of sailing, and if your departure is to be in the busy 
season, engage your passage as far ahead as possible. 



LADIES AT SEA. 

IT almost always happens with ladies who go to sea for the 
first time that, in spite of the advice of friends and their 
own personal care and foresight, they find their outfit lacking 
in something essential to comfort — something whose lack 
presses so heavily on a half-sick condition, that all the journey 
through there is a reiterated lament of *' Why did I never 
think?" or, *' Why did not some one tell me?" It is useless 
to attempt universal rules for experiences which must differ 
with each individual, but in the following simple suggestions 
somebody new to the sea may find comfort. 

First. State-room baggage should be compact. A small 
hat-box, or a valise which can be pushed under the berth, are 
least in the way. A trunk which must stand in the middle of 
the state-room becomes a serious affliction when the vessel 
pitches and throws you upon its sharp corners. 

Second. By all means provide yourself with one or two 
linen bags, made with pockets like a shoe-bag, and carry a 
hammer and tacks with which to nail them against the side of 
the state-room. These convenient little catch-alls, into which 
your watch, slippers, brushes, etc., can be crammed when not 
in use, are indispensable to comfort at sea. 

Third. Let your traveling dress be old and warm. Finery 
is useless at sea. However clean the ship, there is something 



LADIES AT SEA. 1/3 

at every turn which rubs off and soils — fresh paint, newly 
oiled wood- work, newly greased chains. The brasses spot 
you with verdigris. Sprinkles of salt water visit you now and 
then. Soup will spill when the table stands at an angle of 
forty-five degrees: it may even chance of a stormy evening 
that a goose or a leg of mutton, flying from under the carving- 
knife, shall alight in your lap ! Under these circumstances it 
is comforting to have on a gown whose spoiling is of no 
consequence. 

But whether of choice fabric or of hodden-gray, it is above 
all essential that the garment be warm. The ocean climates 
are cool even in the heats of summer. You want woolen 
under-garments, thick boots and gloves, wraps of all kinds, 
and a hood to tie over your hat. With these precautions you 
can be comfortable for many hours each day on deck ; and 
where there is the least disposition to nausea, fresh air is the 
surest and speediest remedy. 

Fourth. We would advise all persons whose sailing quali- 
ties are untested to carry with them to sea a cane-bottomed 
reclining chair with a long back, also a warm rug to wrap 
around the feet while using it. Some of the steam-ships pro- 
vide deck chairs for their passengers, but they are not of this 
comfortable kind, and many vessels carry none at all. A 
person of steady head does very well cuddled into corners 
of the deck, against the sails, etc. ; but to many of us, the 
command of a comfortable chair makes all the difference 
between being able to keep in the air or being forced to 
retreat to the close cabins below. There' are arrangements 
made for storing these chairs in Liverpool, so that they shall 
be ready for the journey back. 

Fifth. It is unnecessary to carry many stores to sea, nor, 
indeed, does any one know, until the moment of actual experi- 
ment, what is or is not likely to be acceptable in his or her 
particular case. Fruit, especially grapes, is almost always 
grateful ; a box of Albert biscuits may serve a good turn, and 
a few fresh lemons are almost sure to do so, as the lemonade 
on shipboard is usually made of concentrated lemon, and lacks 



174 HOME TOPICS. 

the acid freshness which is so reviving. Another thing which 
every sea-traveler will like to have is a box or bottle of good 
fresh French prunes. They are so very grateful and wholesome 
that, if your fellow- travelers know you have them, they will 
probably be gone before the end of the voyage. It is well to be 
provided with a little good brandy in case of extreme exhaus- 
tion, and persons who can bear champagne sometimes find 
that a small quantity, made very cold with ice, is the only thing 
that will stay down after extreme illness, and that it seems to 
restore the tone of the stomach and prepare it for the reception 
of food. It may be well for such to provide themselves with a 
few half-pint bottles, as the steamer people have a habit of 
being out of everything but quart bottles, and so little is 
generally taken at a time, that the wine spoils before it can 
be used. Champagne, however, cannot be universally recom- 
mended. Indeed, nothing can. There is no predicting what 
will or will not suit anybody. With seasickness more than 
any other phase of mortal experience, the adage holds true 
that what is one man's meat is another man's poison. 

Smelling-salts should be remembered. Cologne and aro- 
matic vinegar are often excessively disagreeable to persons 
who are ill. A warm woolen wrapper and knitted slippers 
should be provided for use at night, and an India-rubber bottle 
to hold hot water and keep the feet warm in bed. 

We would advise all persons going to Europe to select 
a ship which has the reputation of a dry deck, and which has 
saloon or deck state-rooms. Nobody who has not tried it 
can appreciate the immense difference in comfort of being able 
to keep the port-hole of the state-room open in all tolerable 
weather. Nothing but fresh air enables one to forget the ship's 
smell, and to do this is the great desideratum at sea. 

Some people ask their friends, and some are so thoughtful 
as, unasked, to write a note or two to be read at intervals during 
the voyage. The captain or the stewardess takes charge of 
these missives, and their unexpected reception, five days or 
eight days out, makes a pleasant break in the monotony of the 
transit. 



HOW TO CAMP OUT AT THE BEACH. 17$ 

Lastly, do not expect any pleasure at sea. Prepare your 
minds for the worst, for ten or eleven or twelve miserable 
days, and go resolved to endure all with patience. Then each 
day free from illness, each meal swallowed with relish, each 
calm morning or smooth moon-lighted evening, will assume 
the aspect of an agreeable surprise ; something not counted on 
or hoped for, even by the kind farewell voices which wished 
you ''Bon voyage'' 



HOW TO CAMP OUT AT THE BEACH. 

WHERE shall we spend our next summer vacation, boys ? 
Perhaps you do not consider this a very pressing prob- 
lem as yet, but you will think it so by the time the hot, bright 
days begin to make the school hours tedious. 

So we propose to take time by the forelock, and tell you 
now of a real jolly way of spending a part of those vacation 
weeks. 

Some of you will go to Saratoga, or Long Branch, or the 
White Mountains, with your parents, although such a way of 
spending a vacation requires a heavier pocket-book than many 
of us possess. Yet, when we get back next fall, and school 
begins again, we will warrant you that those who go with us 
will bring back such reports of a grand good time that you 
will all want to join our party next year. 

One great advantage of our plan is that it costs so little 
that almost any of us can carry it out, and when you ask Papa 
about it, and he looks over his spectacles and shakes his head, 
as much as to say, '' I can't afford it," you can tell him that it 
will not cost him much more than if you staid at home. 

Then, if Mamma looks troubled and fears you will catch 
cold, and Aunt Jane warns you not to get drowned, and sister 
Kate suggests that '' there will be lots of bugs and snakes and 
ugly things creeping about," you can tell them that the man 



1/6 HOME TOPICS. 

who told you the plan has been there himself and knows all 
about it, and that those lions in the way will all be found to be 
chained when you get to them. 

Now, before we conjure up any more of the objections 
which the home friends will raise, it may be important to tell 
you that our plan is to take a tent and camp out for a few 
weeks upon the sea-shore in the most approved " Robinson 
Crusoe " style, with the exception that we shall have Tom, 
and Dick, and Harry for our companions instead of Friday and 
the goat. 

In the first place, you must know that this is not to be an 
ordinary visit to the beach, such as any one with plenty of 
money can make, but we are going to leave our good clothes 
and our every-day life at home as much as possible, and take, 
besides our old clothes, a large stock of good-nature and a 
determination to be pleased with whatever we find. 

And we expect to bring back sunburnt cheeks, robust 
health, and the remembrance of some charming vacation 
weeks. 

In the first place, we must be careful about selecting our 
party. We are to rough it, you know, — to catch our own fish 
and cook them, too ; to sleep on the ground, and perhaps get 
wet and cold, without grumbling. So we want five or six 
good fellows in our party, but no babies, or dandies, or fault- 
finders. 

The next thing to be thought of is the tent. This should 
be large enough to hold us all comfortably, as we lie stretched 
out at night, with a little spare room for our stores. An A 
tent is the best — that is, one with a ridge-pole, supported at 
each end by uprights — since this gives more available room 
than a circular tent with one pole in the center. 

This we can hire of any sail-maker for about three dollars 
per week. 

To keep us warm through the chilly nights, which we 
almost always find near the sea, we shall want a heavy army 
blanket, and an old winter overcoat, — no matter, how worn, — 
which wc can put on, if necessary, when we go to bed. 




BY THE SEA. 



HOW TO CAMP OUT AT THE BEACH. 1 77 

Besides these, on account of the dampness, we should 
have two or three rubber blankets to spread on the ground. 

What shall we eat, and what shall we drink ? are the next 
questions of vital importance. The latter question is easily 
answered by pitching our tent within sight of some good 
spring or well, but the former demands more attention. In our 
party we do not intend to fare sumptuously every day ; in 
fact, you will be surprised to know how few things in the 
edible line are necessary to our comfort. Here is a list, and 
perhaps even one or two of these might be omitted : Hard 
tack, salt pork, ham, potatoes, corn meal, coffee, sugar, con- 
densed milk, salt, and pepper. 

We have found that a barrel of hard tack will last a party 
of six between three and four weeks, if they occasionally 
manage to get a small supply of softer bread. 

Of salt pork, which we shall find indispensable in cooking 
the fish, we shall want at least ten pounds. The corn meal 
will be useful to roll the fish in before frying them, as well as 
in making corn dodgers, slapjacks, and johnny-cakes. Indeed, 
for any of those dishes which our genius for cooking can 
invent, corn meal is far better than flour, and twenty or even 
thirty pounds of it will be none too much for a three-weeks' 
trip. One good-sized ham, six pounds of coffee, twenty 
pounds of sugar, four cans of condensed milk, and a liberal 
supply of salt and pepper, will complete our stores. It may 
be easier to get the potatoes near the camp than to take them 
from home. 

The only things now left to be provided are the cooking 
utensils. A small sheet-iron stove is much more convenient 
than a fire-place of stones, and any good tinman will give us 
just what we want if we ask for a *' camp-stove." This, 
together with coffee-pot, spider, tin pail for boiling potatoes, 
tin plate, cup, knife, fork, and spoon for each member of the 
party, ought not to cost more than fifteen dollars. 

These articles are all made especially for camping parties, 
so as to go inside of the stove, which has a handle at each 
end, and can thus be carried easily, like a small trunk. 
12 



178 HOME TOPICS. 

Now that our preparations have all been made, let us 
count the cost before setting out. 

Here is the bill, founded on a careful estimate, in about 
the shape that our treasurer will present it when we come to 
leave the beach : 

Tent for three weeks, at $3.00 per week $9.00 

Provisions taken with us 22.00 

Stove and cooking utensils 15.00 

Fresh provisions bought at the beach, such as eggs, meat, 

fresh bread, etc 1 5.00 

Incidentals 20.00 

Total $81.00 

This sum divided among six, you see, makes each one's 
share of the expense $13.50 for three weeks, or $4.50 per 
week. 

Of course this does not include the cost of traveling to the 
camp. 

We have taken pains to be minute and accurate in these 
figures, since we know that their amount will decide the point, 
in many cases, whether a party can go to the beach or not. 

When we have obtained from Aunt Jane her best receipts 
for fish chowder and fried fish, corn-cakes, coffee, etc., we may 
consider ourselves ready to start at a moment's notice. 

There are precautions to be thought of before we make up 
our minds to start on such an expedition. In the first place, 
we must not persuade any boy of very weak constitution to 
go with us, because, although sea air and bathing would prob- 
ably be of the greatest service to such a one, our rough mode 
of living might be an injury to him. 

And then, before we go, we should determine to be care- 
ful to select a camp where the bathing is safe and where there 
is no strong undertow. It will be easy enough to do this if 
we take a little trouble and make proper inquiries. 

Now that we are all ready, we are confronted by the 
important question: Where shall we go? 

Very likely you know, or if not, your friends will tell you, 
of *'just tJie place" for a tenting party. In fact, "just the 



HOW TO CAMP OUT AT THE BEACH. 1 79 

places" are so numerous along our Atlantic coast, and you to 
whom we are writing are so widely scattered, that it would be 
difficult to name any one place that would be convenient for 
many of you. We would only suggest that you should not 
choose a fashionable watering-place, but some retired spot, 
where you will feel at ease and be undisturbed. Moreover, 
you should spread your canvas on a dry slope, if possible, 
where the water will not settle, and in a place where the sea 
breezes will have a fair chance at you too; for they will be a 
better preventive against mosquitoes and troublesome flies 
than all the pennyroyal and catsup in the world. 

If you were to have an inland camp, the shade of trees 
would be indispensable, but at the beach the breeze, which 
almost always springs up before noon from seaward, will serve 
to keep you cool. 

As to fish, there are generally plenty of them, of various 
kinds, to be found all along our coast, but unless you have a 
row-boat always at command, you should choose a place with 
convenient rocks to catch them from. So, to put it in a word, 
the best place for our camp is a retired spot on a little slope, 
with bold rocks not far off, jutting out into the sea. 

Now that these preliminaries have been settled, we will 
suppose that, with all our baggage, we have been transported 
to some such sea-side paradise as we have described. First, up 
goes the tent. A little practice will make this only a ten min- 
utes' job. Then a committee of two should be detailed to dig 
a trench six or eight inches deep about the tent, which will 
carry off the water and save us from a wet skin in rainy 
weather. 

Two more will resolve themselves into a fire-wood brigade, 
to collect the fuel which Neptune has kindly cast up at our 
feet in the shape of drift-wood, and the rest will betake them- 
selves to the rocks, with their lines and poles, to catch the 
supper which we feel pretty confident is awaiting us just be- 
neath those green waves. 

For bait we shall use clams, or worms, or mussels, — 
whichever are most convenient. Sea- worms, or '' sand- 



l8o HOME TOPICS. 

worms," — ugly looking crawlers they are, with almost in- 
numerable legs, — can often be found in great numbers under 
the stones when the tide is low, and they make excellent 
bait. 

If none of the party understands such matters, almost any 
fisherman we may meet will teach us how to prepare our fish. 
Then we must boil the coffee, and lay the fish in the sizzling 
frying-pan ; stir up the johnny-cake, fry the potatoes, and in 
half an hour we shall be all ready to sit down to a royal sup- 
per. At least, this will be the verdict of our sharp appetites. 

By the time supper is disposed of, and the dishes are 
washed up, it will begin to grow dark. 

So we will pile the largest pieces of drift-wood on the fire, 
roll ourselves up in the blankets with our feet to the blaze, and 
see who can tell the best stories, until the sleep-fairies persuade 
us to listen to stories of their own in dream-land. 

And here, snugly rolled up in our blankets, the last story 
told, the last conundrum given up, and pleasant dreams hover- 
ing around, we propose to leave you. 

Our purpose in this article has been accomplished if we 
have told you Jiow to go. Though we might go on for pages 
describing the pleasures of those three weeks of carnp-life, we 
will not do so, but hope that, before spring comes again, many 
of you will know by experience, far better than we can tell 
you, what rare fun there is in a vacation spent at " the tent on 
the beach." 



HOW TO ENTERTAIN A GUEST 

HINTS are sometimes given to those who wish to be agree- 
able guests. It seems hardly fair that these should have 
all the advice, since there are some people whom you enjoy 
receiving in your own house, who do not know exactly how to 
manage matters when they have company at their own houses. 



HOW TO ENTERTAIN A GUEST. l8l 

Now we will have a little talk on the other side of this 
question of entertainment, and will speak of those frequent 
occasions when, as Dr. Holmes says, 

'" The visitor becomes the visitee." 

There are some people who seem to consider that the obliga- 
tion is all over when the guest has arrived ; but, in reality, it 
has just begun. You are responsible in some degree for the 
happiness of your visitors from the time they enter your house 
until they leave it. 

Young girls who have no household cares should feel this 
obligation especially, but some who do feel it do not know how 
to make their visitors happy and at ease, and so are uncom- 
fortable all the time they stay, and because they feel that they 
do not succeed, become discouraged, and at last stop trying. 
Indeed, there is nothing more discouraging than to feel that 
you ought to do a thing, and not know exactly how or where 
to begin ; but a few words of help, carefully remembered, may 
give one a wonderful start in the right direction, so here they 
are, for those of you who are looking forward to receiving 
visits from your young friends, with a sort of dread lest they 
may not have what they call *' a good time." 

It is not in the finest houses, or in the gayest places, that 
guests always enjoy themselves the most. You must have 
something better than elegant rooms, or all the sights and 
sounds of a big city, to make your home attractive and pleas- 
ant. It is a very low grade of hospitality which trusts in good 
dinners and fine houses alone. It must be a more subtile 
charm than either of these which will make your house a home 
to your friends. 

All who have ever made visits themselves know this to 
be true. A cordial welcome, a readiness to oblige, a kind 
thoughtfulness of the pleasure of others instead of your own, 
are three golden rules for a hostess to remember. 

Let us look at some of the smaller details. 

In the first place, have the guest's room in readiness 
beforehand, so as not to be constantly supplying deficiencies 



l82 HOME TOPICS. 

after she comes. Put a few interesting books on the table, and 
writing materials, if it be only a common pencil, pen and ink- 
bottle, with a few sheets of paper. 

Try and make the room show your guest that she was 
expected, and that her coming was looked forward to with 
pleasure. 

A few flowers on the bureau, an easy-chair by the pleasant- 
est window, — these are some of the little touches which make 
the plainest room seem home-like. 

If your visitors are strangers, or unaccustomed to traveling, 
try to meet them at the station, or to send some one for them. 
The sight of a famihar face among the crowd takes away that 
first homesick feeling Avhich comes to young people as, tired 
and travel- worn, they step from the boat or cars into the sights 
and sounds of a strange place. When your friend is once estab- 
lished in the guest-chamber, remember that it becomes her 
castle, and is as much her own as if she was at home ; so do 
not be running in and out too familiarly without an invitation. 
Let her feel that when you go there the order of things is 
reversed, and that then you are the guest and she is the 
hostess. 

Let the pleasures which you choose for her entertainment 
be of a kind which you are sure she will enjoy. It is no kind- 
ness to insist on taking a nervous, timid girl on a fast drive, or 
out rowing if she is afraid of the water, under the impression 
that visitors must be taken somewhere, when all the time she is 
wishing she was on solid ground. 

Do not invite people unaccustomed to walking to go on 
long tramps in the woods, and imagine that because it is easy 
and pleasant for you it must be so for them, nor take those 
who are longing for music to see pictures instead, while you 
are boring the picture-lovers, who may care nothing for music, 
with concerts. A little ingenuity and observation will give you 
enough knowledge of your friend's real taste to prevent you 
from making these mistakes ; and, indeed, there will be little 
danger of your doing this if you keep in mind that' the kindest 
thing you can do is to let guests enjoy themselves in their own 



HOW TO ENTERTAIN A GUEST. 1 83 

way, instead of insisting that they shall enjoy themselves in 
yours. If they are fond of books, let them read in peace. I 
once heard a lady, who thinks herself hospitable, say to a 
young friend who was looking over a book which lay on the 
table, " If you want to read that book I will lend it to you 
to take home, but while you are here I want you to visit 
with me." 

Let your friends alone, now and then, and do not make 
them feel that you are constantly watching over them. Some 
people, in trying to be polite, keep their guests in continual 
unrest. The moment one is comfortably seated, they insist 
that she shall get up and take a chair which they consider 
more easy. If she sits in the center of the room, they are 
sure she cannot see ; and if she happens to be by a window, 
they are afraid the light will hurt her eyes. 

There is no place where this is more uncomfortable than at 
the table. An entire visit is sometimes spoiled for a sensitive 
guest by having her friends say, from a mistaken kindness, 
'' I am sorry you do not like what we have. Cannot we get 
you something that you will like better ? " or, *' How does it 
happen that you have no appetite ? " in this way calHng the 
attention of the whole family to her, and making her feel that 
they consider her difficult to please. You can get something 
different for her the next time, if you choose ; buf do not let 
her feel that you are too carefully watching her plate. 

Do not make visitors feel obliged to account to you for all 
their comings and goings, or tire them by constant and obvi- 
ous efforts to entertain them. Unless they are very stupid 
people, they will prefer to entertain themselves for a part of 
the time, even although you make them feel that your time is 
at their disposal whenever they want it. I heard two friends 
talking, not long ago, of a place where they were both in the 
habit of visiting. 

" How pleasant it is at Mrs. Chauncey's I " said one. ** If 
you want her to go anywhere with you, she always makes 
you feel that it is just the place where she wishes to go 
herself" 



1 84 HOME TOPICS. 

'* Yes," replied the other, " she never makes a fuss over 
you, but acts as if you did not cause an extra step to be taken, 
so that you don't worry all the time for fear you are making- 
trouble ; and if you want her advice about anything you are 
doing, she is always ready to stop her own work and show you 
just what you want to know, and makes you feel as if she was 
doing it for her own pleasure instead of yours — so much nicer 
than the way some people have of acting as though you were 
a constant interruption." 

If any excursion is planned, and for any reason you find 
that your friend will be really happier to stay at home, do not 
insist upon her going, or allow the party to be broken up on her 
account. If she would really enjoy more to have you go 
without her, do not insist upon remaining with her. A friend 
of mine suffered much by being obliged to go on a steam-boat 
excursion with a cinder in her eye, because she found that her 
friends would not do as she wished, and leave her quietly at 
home, and so, finding that the pleasure of a whole party would 
be broken up, she endured the pain of going with them, when 
she might have passed the afternoon in comparative comfort at 
home. 

In the same way, some people will insist upon going 
about on business with a guest, who would much prefer to go 
alone. 

In regard to conversation, remember sweet George Her- 
bert's rule : 

"Entice all neatly to what they know best, 
For so thou dost thyself and him a pleasure." 

Talk of the people and things which are most likely to interest 
those whom you wish to please. You would think it very 
rude to speak in a language which your visitors did not under- 
stand, and it is about the same thing to talk of matters in 
which they have no interest, and which they know nothing 
about. Every family has its sayings and jokes, which sound 
very funny to them, but unless they are explained .they mean 
nothing to a stranger. 



HOW TO ENTERTAIN A GUEST. 1 85 

Do not ask many questions about your guests' personal 
affairs, since you are taking them at a great disadvantage when 
they are in your own house, as they will not like to refuse to 
answer. Be careful not to be too ready with advice about a 
visitor's dress. If she asks you what is most suitable to 
wear on any occasion, tell her frankly; but above all things do 
not say or do anything which shall indicate that you do 
think her clothes are not as pretty and fashionable as they 
ought to be. Sometimes a remark made with the kindest in- 
tentions will hurt a sensitive girl's feelings. Those of you 
who have read ''The Diary of Mrs. Kitty Trevellyan" will 
remember how the little country cousin felt when she saw 
Evelyn smile at the dresses which had been made with so much 
care. I once heard a lady speaking of her girlhood, when she 
made her first visit away from the farm where she had always 
lived. She said, as she looked back upon it, she always won- 
dered at the kindness of the friends who received her cor- 
dially, and took her about with them cheerfully, when her dress 
was such as to make her laugh heartily at the mere recollec- 
tion of it. 

Before your guest comes, tell your young friends of her 
expected visit, and ask them to come and see her, and if you 
invite company to meet her, do it as soon as convenient after 
she comes, that she may not feel that she is among strangers 
during the most of her visit. Western people coming East 
often think they do not receive a very cordial reception, 
because they meet so few people. A lady remarked to me 
quite recently that she did not know whether the friends she 
had been visiting were ashamed of her appearance, or of the 
appearance of their own neighbors. She concluded it must 
have been one or the other, as no pains had been taken to 
have them meet each other. 

Do not ask visitors what you shall do to entertain them. 
That is your business, and you should not be so indolent as to 
shift it from your own shoulders to theirs. There may be 
many things which they would enjoy that they will hardly 
venture to suggest. Try and have a pleasant plan for every 



l86 HOME TOPICS. 

day. It will require thought and care on your part, but it is 
worth while. I do not mean that you must be constantly tak- 
ing them to some great entertainment. This is only possible 
to a few of you. In the most quiet country village some httle 
visit or excursion may be easily found, if it is nothing more 
than a game of croquet with some pleasant girls, or an interest- 
ing story read aloud. Do not make the mistake of thinking 
that because things are old and dull to you, they are so to 
every one else. To the city girl, who goes weary and worn-out 
from the dust and heat of brick walls and pavements, the pleas- 
ant stroll in the woods, which is too familiar to please you, may 
be a fresh delight. So, to the one who has passed all her life 
among green fields, the sights and sounds of a city may be a 
great pleasure, even though it may not seem possible to those 
who are tired of them. 

It is surprising how many things there are to see, in any 
locality, if one will only take the trouble to find them ; and 
the hope of making a visit pleasant to a friend is a good incen- 
tive to help one in the search. 

If you cannot give your young visitor any elaborate and 
expensive pleasures, do not be discouraged. The sight of a 
brilliant sunset from some neighboring hill ; a walk down 
Broadway ; the inside of a great factory, where the throbbing 
looms are full of interest to stranger eyes; — if you have no 
more wonderful sights than these to show, these are enough. 

" Who does the best his circumstance allows. 
Does well, acts nobly. Angels can no more." 

Do not think it necessary to insist upon riding with your 
friends, if there is not room enough for you without crowding 
the others. I knew a lady who turned to her sister, who was 
visiting her, when but one seat in the carriage was left, and 
said : " Shall you stay at home, or I ? " The guest replied 
that she was willing to give up, if necessary; whereupon the 
hostess handed her the baby and drove off, although she knew 
that her sister had particular reasons for wishing to go with 
the rest. This is almost too bad to tell of, even though it 



HOW TO ENTERTAIN A GUEST. 1 87 

is true ; but it exactly illustrates how selfishness in trifles may 
grow upon one unconsciously, until it becomes a controlling 
power. This fault has been rightly called " the tap-root of all 
other sins." and is the greatest difficulty we have to overcome 
in acquiring habits of uniform courtesy and consideration for 
others. 

Do not urge your guests to extend their visits, after they 
have clearly explained to you that the time has come for 
them to go, and that it is inconvenient for them to stay longer. 
Let the subject drop, merely letting them know that you are 
sorry to part with them. Do not convey the impression that 
you think you can judge better than they can of their own 
affairs, by constantly teasing them to stay, and saying that 
you are sure they could do so if they pleased — 

*' For still we hold old Homer's rule the best, 
Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest." 



PART IV. 
HOME AMUSEMENTS AND WORK. 



THE GAME OF LAWN TENNIS. 









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DIAGRAM OF A TENNIS GROUND. 



THIS game, which is played at a season when the world 
appears at its best, combines a most perfect exercise for 
all the muscles with a singular charm for girls as well as boys, 
for men and for women. Tennis is a very old ' game, for 
Galen — an old Greek medical gentleman — has written of it 



THE GAME OF LAWN TENNIS. 1 89 

to the effect that it was in his time a healthy exercise, and 
quite nice. 

All of us, who enjoy playing ball games, would like to 
know who had wit enough to invent them. Herodotus thinks 
they were first played by the Lydians, in the reign of King 
Atyx, many years before Christ was born, in order to make 
the people forget their hunger at the time when they were 
suffering from a dreadful famine. The game does not seem to 
have that effect now. 

Tennis, as it is now played in the tennis courts of England, 
France, and Italy, was perfected and played, substantially as 
now, two or three hundred years ago. Swedenborg, who 
thinks that in the next world there are as many different sorts 
of heavens as there are different kinds of people, describes 
one heaven as having "various sports of men and boys, as 
running, hand-ball, tennis." 

It has been called both the "King of Games" and the 
^' Game of Kings." This last name was given it because it 
was a favorite amusement with princes and nobles, and both in 
England and France edicts were published forbidding the 
common people to play it. Henri II. is considered to have 
been the best tennis-player of all the French kings. Henri 
of Navarre rose at daylight, after the cruel massacre of St. 
Bartholomew, to continue a game of tennis. Henry VIII., of 
England, was passionately fond of it until he became too 
stout, and you may think it would have been better for him 
if he had kept up his interest in it and given less attention to 
matrimony. Edward Halle, the historian, who probably never 
went to a spelHng-school, says of him: "The kynge thys 
tyme was moche entysed to pJaye at tennes and at dice, which 
appetite certayn craftie persones about hym perceyuinge, 
brought in Frenchmen and Lombardes to make wagers with 
hym and so lost moch money; but when he perceyued their 
craft, he eschuyd their compaignie," — which was a very 
proper thing for him to do. 

Tennis was originally, and still is, played in halls, or 
courts, built for the purpose at great cost; but the more 



IQO HOME TOPICS. 

modern game of lawn tennis, which is now rapidly becoming- 
popular in this country, can be arranged for a comparatively 
small cost. Dealers will supply a very good set for fifteen 
dollars, which will furnish amusement for a club of ten or 
fifteen persons during several seasons. More expensive and 
much better sets can, of course, be had, and it may be said of 
this, as of most other out-of-door sports, that the enjoyment 
is somewhat in proportion to the excellence of the materials. 
The only materials absolutely necessary, however, to enable 
four persons to play an enjoyable game, are four racquets, an 
India-rubber ball, and a cord suspended between two posts. 
These can be had, of very good quality, for but little more 
than half the cost of a " set" 

The game needs, first of all, a smooth, level ground, which 
may be either hard-rolled earth, asphalt, or (probably best of 
all) well-rolled, closely cut turf A set consists of four 
racquets, four India-rubber balls, two and an eighth inches in 
diameter, and two and a half ounces in weight, and a net 
attached to two posts, forty- two feet apart, at a height of 
four feet from the ground at the posts, and sagging to a height 
of only three feet at the center. The best dimensions for the 
ground, according to the rules of the Marylebone Cricket 
Club, are thirty-six wide at the base lines (the end lines), 
and seventy-eight feet long. The ground is divided length- 
wise by a central hne, and on either side of this, as one stands 
facing the net, are the ** right court" and the "left court." 
The courts are again divided by a "service line," drawn 
parallel to the base lines at a distance of twenty-one feet from 
the net, and *'side service lines" drawn parallel to the side 
lines and four and a half feet from them. A two-handed 
game is played altogether within the side service lines, but in 
four-handed games it is a good return to land the ball any- 
where within the outside lines. A ground may be easily and 
quickly measured and marked out with a hundred feet tape- 
line and some plaster-of-paris and water, or Avhitewash, or, 
indeed, almost any substance which will make a distinct line 
on the turf 



THE GAME OF LAWN TENNIS. igi 

To play the game, sides are formed, each occupying its 
own side of the net, and the choice of courts may be deter- 
mined by spinning a racquet in the air, while an opponent 
calls out ** rough" or "smooth" before it falls to the ground 
with one of those faces uppermost. The side which loses the 
choice of courts may elect to begin as ** hand-in" or ''hand- 
out." Hand-in is the one who *' serves " the ball, that is, 
begins the game (standing with one foot on either side of his 
base line) by serving (striking) the ball so that it shall pass 
over the net and come to the ground in the diagonally oppo- 
site court between the opponent's service line and the net. If 
he serves the ball into the wrong court, into the net, or into 
the diagonally opposite court but beyond the service line, he 
makes a ''fault." Hand-in becomes hand-out (and his oppo- 
nent becomes the server) when he serves the ball outside of 
court, or when he makes two successive faults, or when he 
fails to return the ball so that it shall fall into one of his oppo- 
nent's courts. When hand-in makes a "good service" (serves 
the ball into the diagonally opposite court within the service 
line), the hand-out who is guarding that court attempts with 
his racquet to strike the ball as it bounds from the ground, so 
that it shall return over the net into either one of hand-in's 
courts. Hand-in, or his partner, may then strike the ball 
before it bounds (that is to say, "volley" it), or after it has 
bounded once, returning it again within hand-out's courts, and 
then hand-out has like privileges with it. The ball can thus 
be struck any number of times back and forth over the net, 
until one or the other fails to return it, or returns it so vigor- 
ously that it falls outside the opponent's courts, or allows the 
ball to touch any part of his clothes or person. 

If it is hand-out, or his partner, who fails to make "good 
return," or if the service is volleyed, one point is scored for 
hand-in. Hand-in then again serves the ball (serving from his 
right and left courts alternately), and if he makes a good serv- 
ice, and makes good returns, until hand-out finally fails to 
make a good return, another point is scored for hand-in, and 
he continues to serve and add to his score, until he fails. 



192 HOME TOPICS. 

When hand-ill fails to make a good service, or a good 
return, or makes two successive faults, no point is scored, and 
one of his opponents becomes the server. 

The side which first scores fifteen points, or "aces," wins 
the game. But, if both sides reach fourteen, the score is 
called "deuce." A new point, called "vantage," is then intro- 
duced, and either side in order to score game must win two 
points in succession, called "vantage" and "game." 

It is important to remember that when a ball drops on 
any line, it is considered to have dropped within the court 
aimed at and bounded by that line; and that it is a good serv- 
ice or a good return, although the ball may have touched the 
net or either of the posts in passing over them. 

Let us now be spectators of a game. Since tennis is 
traditionally played by princes, and we have but few^ princes 
in this country, let us choose players who are prominent 
among us — democrats and republicans that we are. 

The Governor of South Carolina (in the upper left court) 
has naturally chosen a Boston Lady (in hs right court) for his 
partner, and the Governor of North Carolina (in the opposite 
right court) is very glad to have the Lady from Philadelphia 
(in his left court)- to assist him. The Governor of North 
Carolina, spinning his racquet in the air, now says to the 
Governor of South Carolina : 

"What will you take?" 

The Governor of South Carohna answers: "Rough," and 
as the racquet falls to the ground with the brass-headed tack 
in sight, he makes his choice of courts with due regard to the 
direction of the sun and wind. The Governor of North 
Carolina chooses the first service, and, taking the ball, stands 
on the base Hne of his right court with his left shoulder turned 
toward the net, and asks the Boston Lady: 

"Are you ready?" 

She answers, "Ready," and he at once releases the ball 
from his left-hand, and, swinging his racquet at arm's length, 
drives the ball into the opponent's right court, making a good 
service. Being skillful, he strikes with his racquet slanted, 



THE GAME OF LAWN TENNIS. I93 

which gives the ball a twist, or violent whirling motion, so 
that when it strikes the ground it will not bound in a straight 
line, but will shoot toward the right 

The Boston Lady is alert, and noticing the way the Gov- 
ernor held his racquet, has promptly placed herself so that, when 
the ball comes twisting from the ground, her left side is toward 
it, and it passes in front of her within her reach. She catches 
it lightly on her racquet, and drives it far over into her oppo- 
nent's left court, hoping that the Governor of North Carolina 
may not be agile enough to get before it. But he is there, and 
you will observe that, though he had to run a considerable 
distance in a very short time, yet he has judged the ball so 
well and started so promptly that he is standing still, firmly 
on both feet, when the ball arrives, and he drives it sharply 
over the head of his old friend, the Governor of South Carolina. 
The latter, with his racquet above his head, stops the ball and 
volleys it blindly back within reach of the Lady from Phila- 
delphia. And now is the opportunity for this distinguished 
lady. She has been not at all excited or made nervous by 
the swift battle which has been going on about her ; she 
never is excited. She has moved up quite near the net, and 
now, with great coolness and precision, she receives the ball 
fairly on her racquet, and drives it at the Governor opposite 
with such force that he cannot prevent its touching his body, 
and the stroke is ended, scoring an ace for the server's side. 

In learning to play tennis, the first and all-important 
lesson is the manner of holding the racquet. Vicious habits 
are seldom corrected. Do not begin in the wrong way. In 
serving, grasp the racquet lightly, with the hand elongated so 
that the thumb will lie along the handle, and the handle will 
be a continuation of the arm, and with the face of the racquet 
neither parallel with nor perpendicular to the ground. When 
in this position, and swung horizontally, it will not strike the 
ball squarely, but will rake it, giving it a violent twist, which 
will make it bound sharply and unexpectedly, and tend to 
deceive and evade your opponent. This is called the '' pure 
cut." When you have learned to make a good service with 
13 



194 



HOME TOPICS. 



tolerable certainty, practice raking the ball on the right side 
and again on the left side (called respectively the '* overhand 
twist" and the ''underhand twist"), and notice and remember 
the effect on the ball when it bounds. 

When the ball is being served or returned to you, promptly 
place yourself in a good position to receive it, and then wait 
for it coolly. Don't fidget. 

Lastly, in playing this delightful game, remember that 
though sport is not a serious business, it is essentially an 
earnest one. It is not wise to dispute questions of fact with 
your opponent, or even discuss a construction of the rules 
farther than to state fairly your understanding of them. Take 
your defeats good-naturedly, and wear your honors lightly, 
but always do your level best. 




THE RACQUET. 



A TALK ABOUT SWIMMING. 



HANGING in the shrouds of a sinking ship on a wild 
November afternoon, the engine-room flooded from the 
leak, the steam pumps not able to work, my back tortured 
beyond endurance with hard labor at the levers of the hand- 
pump, the deck swept by the bursting seas, a wild and angry 
sky above, the lee shore perfectly horrible in the tempest of its 
waves, and the thunder of the surf that Avenf rolling and 
charging by squadrons of billows over a half-mile of low, 



A TALK ABOUT SWIMMING. 



195 



sandy bottom, I asked myself whether, if the ship broke up, 
I could manage the under-tow, — that merciless drag back- 
ward of the sea, the topmost wave washing the swimmer 
illusively toward the shore, the undermost sucking him down 
and out. I said to myself an emphatic "Yes!" But the 
experiment was spared me, and I got ashore next morning in 
a life-boat. Ever since that awful hour and night, I have had 
a sincere respect for the science and art of swimming, in which, 
next to God, then rested all my hope and trust. 

But before we talk about fighting an under-tow in a wicked 
sea-way, let us discuss the principles and methods of swim- 
ming. To drown in a river, with the shore only a few yards 
away, when any dog or donkey would reach the land, must 
involve a feeling of personal humiliation as well as despair. 
To be self- trustworthy is the first thing in moments of danger; 
but the art of swimming has a high value in the saving of 
other lives, and is, besides, a luxury and accomplishment worth 
the having, for the mere fun of the thing. In our civilization, 
swimming is an acquired accomplishment It is understood to 




THE PROPER POSITION. 



be a natural function with nearly all kinds of animals, hogs and 
humanity being the leading exceptions. The inability to swim 
is in all cases a defect of education. If we do not know 
already, let us learn how. 



196 HOME TOPICS. 

To an expert swimmer, sinking is impossible, except from 
cramp or exhaustion. The weight of a human body is just 
about that of the water it displaces ; but the body weight is 
unevenly distributed, the lungs being the bladder and the head 
the sinker, — so that the first rule in swimming is to keep the 
head well back on the shoulders, where it will rest immediately 
above the lungs. But before this, the beginner should observe 
a few rules of safety. 

Get accustomed to the shock of water. Wade slowly into 
a smooth, shallow place, turn and face toward the shore, duck 
under in water deep enough to cover the body, get your head 
wet, hold your breath when under, snort as you come to the 
air again, resisting the inclination to breathe in first; and then, 
in a depth of a foot or two, lie down, face downward, and 
touch the tips of your fingers on the bed of the stream. You 
will find that a very slight lift — hardly two ounces — will keep 
your head afloat, but not your heels. ' Use them as oars. 
Drop out backward into deeper water, walking on your finger- 
tips, and you will find that the more of your body is under 
water, the less weight you have to carry. The only parts to 
keep in the air are your lips and nostrils. Make these the only 
exposed surface ; hollow your loins, and carry your head well 
back, so as to have it perpendicular to the lungs. 

All this is mere paddling; but you will soon find that keep- 
ing afloat is no trouble, unless you keep too high and try to 
swim as much in the air as in the water. You must remember 
that you have to displace as much weight of water as the 
weight of your own body. You cannot walk upon the waves, 
or climb out of them without a support. In swimming, you 
must lie low. The legs should be well under, and so should 
the hands. The attitude should be as in the first illustration 
— the chin in the water, the legs at an angle of thirty-three 
degrees. The theory is that you should use the feet as a 
counterpoise to the head — -the chest, the buoyant part of the 
body, being the fulcrum of the lever. If your heels go up, 
your head will go down. Now stop paddling', abandon the 
grip of your hands on the bottom, keep your head toward the 



A TALK ABOUT SWIMMING. 



197 



shore, and strike out. The first illustration will show the atti- 
tude. Two feet depth of water is enough for the lesson. 

Keep both hands well under water. You can't swim in the 
air. Hold your fingers together, the palms of the hands 
slightly hollowed, the head well back, the chest inflated, and 
strike with all four limbs in unison of movement. The hands 
and the feet will act as propellers, the hands moving backward 
and downward as low as the hips, and well outside of the body; 
the feet drawing together and pushing down at the same 
moment. Give full spread to your hands and feet. Their 
resistance to the water is your propelling force. Then gather, 
frog fashion, and repeat the motion. You rid yourself of the 
sense of danger by keeping in 
shallow water and striking to- 
ward shore. 

Work in that way awhile, 
and the temptation will be ir- 
resistible to swim from shore; 
but it should be carefully in- 
dulged until you feel sure of 
yourself. 

When you have thus learned 
to swim a half-dozen strokes, 
all the rest is mere practice in 
a dehghtful school, where there 
is more fun than work. Water 
frolics are high sport, and the 
best frolic of all is a good 
dive. 

The fun of a good dive is fun 
indeed. I have often ** fetched 
bottom " at fifteen feet, and 
brought up a big stone to 
prove to my comrades that I had been '^ clean down." But 
once, in water like crystal, in the Upper Lakes, where the 
pebbles could be seen at the bottom, I came rushing up with 
my head cracking, and saw an old fellow grinning at me. I 




198 HOME TOPICS. 

hung breathless to a wharf-pile, and he casually informed me 

that the water was twenty- six feet deep — "thar or tharabouts." 

Jumping from a height is a doubtful job. Recollect that 

in everything connected with swimming you are top-heavy, 



-"^r^. 



\^ 



FLOATING. 



and that water is incompressible. If you get off your balance 
while dropping, and fall on your side, either you will be 
drowned or your mother will need, next day, all the cold 
cream in the neighborhood. I have painful recollections on 
that subject. Two days in bed and a maternal lecture of the 
same length were too much to pay for that one dizzy, sidewise 
rush through the air. If I had taken my leaden head for a 
plummet, I should have been spared the bhsters on my body. 
I ought to have dived. 

''Floating" is the best illustration of the real buoyancy of 
the human body. It needs only self-possession and still 
water. There are two attitudes, one of which seems the 
more scientific, but which I never worked with any consider- 
able success. It is accurately shown in the illustration given 
above, in which the position pictured is theoretically correct. 
I have seen such floating done with not the motion of a 
muscle, except as the lungs were kept inflated. Only the 
mouth and nostrils are out of water, and the arms, extended 



A TALK ABOUT SWIMMING. 



199 



backward, balance the legs, the lungs being at the fulcrum. 
But as a personal habit I float better with my legs deeper in 
the water, and my hands wrapped under the small of my back, 
the body in a semi-perpendicular position. You have plenty 
of time to breathe if you are only self-confident. 

In "treading water" there is a nice illustration of buoy- 
ancy. It is a great rest sometimes. The propulsive force of 
the tread of the soles of the feet against the water below them, 
with the buoyant power of the lungs supporting the head 
perpendicularly above them, carry the head clear out of 
water, and make a lazy but secure support. The hands should 
rest quietly on the hips, as 
shown in the picture. There 
are a dozen other feats in 
swimming, such as swimming 
on the back, which is lazier 
than any other method. 



^iS^g^^^ 



LIFE RESCUE. 
The true plan to 



follow, 
when safety is the call, is to 
swim with everything below 
the chin well down under 
water, the head well back and 
resting centrally on the float- 
ing power of the lungs. But 
what will you do when your 
comrade is tired out and 
drowning ? That depends. If 
he is cool and reliable, get in 
front of him, let him place 
his hands on your hips (not 

your shoulders), and you can carry him quite a distance, 
supposes both parties, rescued and rescuer, understand fair 
play. The weaker party is the one that ought to drown, if he 
shows any disposition to drown his friend by a miserable, 
cowardly death-clutch at the only floating thing around him. 




TREADING WATER. 



That 



200 



HOME TOPICS. 



In the case of 
the death-clutch, 
go to the bot- 
tom with your 
man and leave 
him there. There 
may be an un- 
pleasant wrestle, 
but the real 
drowning man 
is ready to quit 
his prey when 
he strikes bot- 
tom. The better 
man has his right 
to come to the 
surface and swim 
ashore. 

But in a con- 
siderable swim- 
ming experi- 
ence, and some 
rescues, there 
comes one ab- 
solute rule : 
Never face a 
drowning man. 
He welcomes 
rescue so eager- 
ly that he will 
hug you around 
the neck and 
take you down. 
The safest and 
best thing to do 
is to get behind 
him, and, unless 




A TALK ABOUT SWIMMING. 20I 

you are left-handed, put your left-hand under his right 
arm-pit. The lift you give him will be enough in ordinary 
water. He can be coaxed to help himself, and if he is a 
reasonable being you can bring him to shore. If he is insane 
w^ith fright, recollect that you are to be both prudent and 
heroic. Get away from him, clutch his ankle with one hand, 
and tow him ashore. If the bank is near, he is not likely to 
drown on the way. If he does, it is not your fault. But a 
brave swimmer is master of his element. I saw two lads — I 
saw one of them, at least — carry a companion, who could 
not swim, across a deep, broad, and rapid river, just for a 
frolic. It was a reckless thing to do, and the three were 
used up when they staggered to the shore. They recrossed 
from a point up the river, where they found a good light pine 
slab, and towed John across on that. 

But those same two young scamps once rescued a drowning 
comrade in a way that was remarkable for its neatness. The 
poor fellow was in mid-stream, cramped and exhausted, and 
barely able to keep afloat. Which was first was never decided, 
but in the critical moment each was behind him, each with a 
hand under an arm-pit ; he w^as almost a dead-weight on their 
hands, and they swam him ashore, more dead than alive. It 
was a struggle, but they were the masters of the situation. 

THE UNDER-TOW. 

I began this gossip with a mention of the " under- tow." 
It is by no means a "phenomenon," but something to be 
read up and studied. Either on the sea-beach or at the 
great lakes, all the water that is. tumbled ashore in heavy 
waves must go back again. The top-sea rolls in and the 
under-sea rolls out. Trust to the former. Keep clear afloat 
and as high as you can. Abandon the rule I have given you 
about deep swimming. Secure the friendship of the shore- 
ward wave. Otherwise, if, when you are within ten feet of 
shore and safety, you drop your legs to the angle of thirty- 
three degrees, which is the deep-swimming position, you will 



202 HOME TOPICS. 

find that the '' under-tow " — the under water that flows out to 
replace the waves that run in — will grab you by the ankles 
and pull you out and down again. Keep clear afloat, your 
head well down, your heels feeling the topmost of the impell- 
ing wave ; keep your lungs well filled, and wash ashore. You 
are not safe until you can easily fasten your hands in the sand 
or gravel and pull yourself to land. But in shallow water, 
with a long surf rolling in behind you, the drag of the under- 
tow can only be avoided by swimming high and letting the 
waves " buck " you in. The rules for still water and rapid 



THE UNDER-TOVV. 



river currents, in which deep swimming is safety, do not apply 
to mastering an under-tow. Swim shallow and trust the top- 
most wave. 

Perhaps I ought to add a word about ice rescue, where a 
fellow skating on thin ice breaks through, and, heading toward 
shore with a pair of skates on his heels, cracks off successive 
chunks of ice until he is surrounded by them. It is the coldest 
kind of a baptism, and the hardest kind of a rescue. I was an 
actor in one when a college chum "slumped" through. The 
ice was unsafe, and we fished him out by knocking off fence- 
boards, sliding them out, lying face-downward on the boards, 
other fence-boards being slid out to us. He got hold of one, 



PARLOR MAGIC. . 203 

climbed to the surface of the ice with the ready skill of a prac- 
ticed swimmer, and said, with rattling teeth in the zero atmos- 
phere : " Well, fellows, you did that nicely ! " The remark 
was rather impathetic, but it was literally true. 



PARLOR MAGIC. 

(Pleasing^ Harmless, and Inexpensive Experiments, chiefly Chemical, 
for Young People. ) 

THIS series of experiments is designed for the use of young 
people who are interested in the wonders and the beauti- 
ful realities of nature, and who delight to observe for them- 
selves how curious are the phenomena revealed by scientific 
knowledge. Simple instructions are given for the performance 
of a number of pretty experiments, all of which are perfectly 
safe, and cost very little money. For "evenings at home," it 
is hoped that these experiments will be found indefinitely 
amusing and recreative, at the same time that they will lead 
the minds of boys and girls to inquiries into the entire fabric of 
the grand sciences which explain the principles on which they 
are founded. All the materials spoken of, and all the needful 
apparatus, which is of the simplest and most inexpensive kind, 
can be obtained at a good chemist's. It is of the highest 
importance that all the materials be pure and good. 

PARLOR SUNSHINE. 

Obtain a yard of " magnesium tape " or *' magnesium 
wire," sold very cheap by most druggists. Cut a length of 
six or eight inches; bend one extremity so as to get a good 
hold of it with a pair of forceps, or even a pair of ordinary 
scissors, or attach it to the end of a stick or wire. Then hold 
the piece of magnesium vertically in a strong flame, such as 
that of a candle, and in a few seconds it will ignite, burning 



204 



HOME TOPICS. 



with the splendor of sunshine, and making night seem noon- 
day. As the burning proceeds, a quantity of white powder is 
formed. This is pure magnesia. While performing this splen- 
did experiment, the room should be darkened. 



CADAVEROUS FACES. 

This is an amusing contrast to the lighting- up by means 
of magnesium. Again let the room be nearly darkened. Put 
about a tea-cupful of spirits of wine in a strong common dish 
or saucer, and place the dish in the middle of the table. Let 
every one approach to the distance of about a yard. Then 
ignite the spirit with a match. It will burn with a peculiar 
yellowish-blue flame, and in the light of this the human 
countenances, and all objects of similar color, lose their natu- 
ral tint, and look spectral. The contrast of the wan and 
ghostly hue with the smiling lips and white teeth of those who 
look on, is most amusing. The effect of this experiment is 
heightened by dissolving some common table-salt in the spirit, 

and still further by 
putting into it a small 
quantity of saffron. 
Let the spirit burn 
\ itself away. 

THE BREATH OF 
LIFE. 

Procure a tolera- 
bly large bell-glass, 
such as is used for 
covering clocks and 
^__ ornaments upon the 
mantel-piece. It 
should not be less 
than eighteen inches 
inches in diameter. Provide 




THE BREATH OF LIFE. 



high, 

also 

glass 



and eight or nine 



a common dish, sufficiently large to allow, the bell- 
to stand well within its raised border. Then pro- 



PARLOR MAGIC. 205 

cure two little wax-candles, three or four inches in length, 
and stand each in a little bottle or other temporary 
candlestick. Place them in the center of the dish and light 
the wicks. Then pour water into the dish to the depth of 
.nearly an inch, and finish by placing the bell over the candles, 
which of course are then closely shut in. For a few minutes 
all goes on properly. The flames burn steadily, and seem to 
laugh at the idea of their being about to die. But presently 
they become faint, — first one, then the other; the luster and 
the size of the flames diminish rapidly, and then they go out. 
This is because the burning candles consumed all the oxygen 
that was contained within the volume of atmosphere that was 
in the bell, and were unable, on account of the water, to get 
new supplies from outside. It illustrates, in the most perfect 
manner, our own need of constant supplies of good fresh air. 
The experiment may be improved, or at all events varied, by 
using candles of different lengths. 

ROSE-COLOR PRODUCED FROM GREEN. 

Obtain a small quantity of roseine — one of the wonderful 
products obtained from gas-tar, and employed extensively in 
producing what are called by manufacturers the ''magenta 
colors." Roseine exists in the shape of minute crystals, 
resembling those of sugar. They are hard and dry, and of 
the most briUiant emerald green. Drop five or six of these 
little crystals into a large glass of limpid water. They will 
dissolve ; but instead of giving a green solution, the product is 
an exquisite crimson-rose color, the color seeming to trickle 
from the surface of the water downward. When the solution 
has proceeded for a short time, stir the water with a glass rod, 
and the uncolored portion of it will become carmine. 

SOME ELECTRICAL EXPERIMENTS. 

Take a piece of common brown paper, about a foot in 
length, and half as wide. Hold it before the fire till it becomes 
quite hot. Then draw it briskly under your left arm several 
times, so as to rub it on both surfaces against the woolen cloth 



206 



HOME TOPICS. 



of your coat. It will now have become so powerfully electrified 
that, if placed against the papered wall of the parlor, it will 
hold on for some time, supported, as it were, by nothing. 

While the piece of brown paper is thus so strangely cling- 
ing to the wall, place a small, light, and fleecy feather against 
it, and this, in turn, will cling to the paper. 

Now, again, make your piece of brown paper hot by the 
fire, and draw it, as before, several times under the arm. Pre- 
viously to this, attach a string to one corner, so that it may 
be held up in the air. Several feathers, of a fleecy kind, may 
now be placed against each side of the paper, and they will 
cling to it for several minutes. 

Another curious electrical experiment is to take a pane of 
common glass, make it warm by the fire, then lay it upon two 
books, allowing only the edges to touch the books, and rub 
the upper surface with a piece of flannel, or a piece of black 
silk. Have some bran ready, strew it upon the table under 
the piece of glass, and the particles will dance. 




CUTTING THE PHIAL. 



TO CUT A PHIAL IN HALF. 

Wind around it two bands 
of paper, corresponding in 
position to the two temperate 
zones of the earth, leaving a 
space between, corresponding 
to the equatorial zone. Then 
wind a long piece of string 
once around the equatorial 
space. Let an assistant hold 
one end of the string, and 
while holding one end your- 
self, move the phial rapidly 
to and fro, so that the string 
shall work upon the glass be- 
tween the two pieces of paper. 
When the glass becomes hot 
in the equatorial space, pour 



PARLOR MAGIC. 20/ 

some cold water upon it, and the glass will break as evenly as 
if cut with a knife. 

The principle involved in this curious experiment may be 
applied to the removal of a glass stopper, when too tight in 
the neck of the bottle for the fingers to stir it. All that is 
necessary is to wind a piece of thick string around the neck of 
the bottle, get an assistant to hold one end, and then work the 
bottle to and fro. The glass of the neck will become so warm 
as to expand, and the stopper will become loosened. It is 
often necessary to continue this friction for some minutes before 
the desired result is attained. 

THE INVISIBLE RENDERED VISIBLE. 

Place a coin in an empty basin, and let the basin be near 
the edge of the table. Ask one of the company to stand 
beside it, and to retire slowly backward until he or she can no 




THE COIN INVISIBLE. THE COIN VISIBLE. 

longer see the coin. Then pour cold, clear water into the 
basin, and the person, ^yho the moment before could not 
perceive the coin, now will see it quite plainly, though without 
moving a hair's breadth nearer. 

LIGHT FROM SUGAR. 

In a dark room, rub smartly one against the other a 
couple of lumps of white sugar, and light will be evolved. A 
similar effect is produced by rubbing two lumps of borate of 
soda one against the other. 



208 HOME TOPICS. 

MINIATURE FIRE-SHIPS. 

Procure a good-sized lump of camphor. Cut It up into 
pieces of the size of a hazel-nut, and having a large dish filled 
with cold water in readiness, lay the pieces on the surface, 
where they will float. Then ignite each one of them with a 
match, and they will burn furiously, swimming about all the 
time that the burning is in progress, until at last nothing 
remains but a thin shell, too wet to be consumed. 

PURPLE AIR. 

Obtain an olive-oil flask, the glass of which must be color- 
less. In default of an oil-flask, a large test-tube may be 
employed. Put into it a small quantity of solid iodine (pro- 
curable at the chemist's and very cheap), then lightly stop the 
mouth of the flask or test-tube with some cotton- wool, but 
not hermetically, and hold it slantwise over the flame of a 
spirit-lamp. The heat will soon dissolve the iodine, which 
will next turn into a most beautiful violet- colored vapor, com- 
pletely filling the glass, and disappearing again as the glass 
gets cold. 

THE TWO EGGS. 

Dissolve as much common table-salt in a pint of water as 
it will take up, so as to prepare a strong brine. With this 
brine half fill a tall glass. Then pour in pure water, very 
carefully. Pour it down the side, or put it in with the help of 
a spoon, so as to break the fall. The pure water will then 
float upon the top of the brine, yet no difference will be 
visible. Next, take another glass of exactly the same kind, 
and fill it with pure water. Now take a common egg, and put 
it into the vessel of pure water, when it will Instantly sink to 
the bottom. Put another egg into the first glass, and it will 
not descend below the surface of the brine, seeming to be 
miraculously suspended in the middle. Of course the two 
glass vessels should be considerably wider than the egg is 
long. 



PARLOR MAGIC. 



209 



THE MAGIC APERTURE. 

Put several lighted candles upon the table, in a straight 
row and near together. • Lay upon the table, in front of them, 
a large piece of smooth, 

white paper. Have .'.rv_- -. -j"— _-.Z:'^=i-\^ 

ready a piece of paste- 
board, large enough to 
conceal the candles, with 
a small hole cut in it 
above the middle. Place 
this so as to stand upon 
its edge between the 
row of candles and the 
sheet of paper in front, '• 
and there will be as 
many images of flames 
thrown through the hole 
burning candles. 

GREEN FIRE. 




THE MAGIC APERTURE. 



and upon the paper as there are 



Obtain some boracic acid, mix it well with a small quantity 
of spirits of wine, or alcohol, place the alcohol in a saucer 
upon a dish, and then ignite it with a match. The flame will 
be a beautiful green. To see the color to perfection, of course, 
the room should be somewhat darkened. 

A green flame may also be produced by using chloride of 
copper instead of boracic acid. And instead of mixing it with 
the alcohol, a small quantity may be imbedded in the wick of 
a candle. 

A BEAUTIFUL IMITATION OF HOAR-FROST. 

Obtain a large bell-glass, with a short neck and cork at the 
top, such as may be seen in the chemists' shops. Then procure 
a small quantity of benzoic acid, which exists in the shape of 
snowy crystals. Elevate the bell-glass upon a little stage 
made of books or pieces of wood, so as to allow a spirit-lamp 
to be introduced underneath, and a little evaporating dish to 
14 



210 



HOME TOPICS. 



be held above the flame by means of a ring of wire with suita- 
ble handle. Place the benzoic acid in the evaporating dish, 
over the flame, and presently the acid will ascend in vapor 
and fill the bell, which must not be quite closed at the top. 
Before setting up the apparatus, introduce into the bell a small 




IMITATING HOAR-FROST. 



branch of foliage, which may be hung by a thread from the 
neck of the bell. The stifler and more delicate this branch, 
the better. In a short time it will become covered with a soft 
white deposit of the acid, very closely resembling hoar-frost. 
This makes an extremely pretty ornament for the parlor. 



TO BOIL WATER WITHOUT FIRE. 

Half fill a common oil-flask with water, and boil it for a 
few minutes over the flame of a spirit-lamp. While boiling, 
cork up the mouth of the flask as quickly as you can, and tie a 



PARLOR MAGIC. 211 

bit of wet bladder over the cork, so as to exclude the air per- 
fectly. The flask being now removed from the lamp, the boil- 
ing ceases. Pour some cold water upon the upper portion of 
the flask, and the ebullition recommences ! Apply hot water, 
and it stops ! And thus you may go on as long as you please. 

TO CONVERT A LIQUID INTO A SOLID. 

Dissolve about half a pound of sulphate of soda in a pint 
of boiling water, and after it has stood a few minutes to settle, 
pour it off into a clean glass vessel. Pour a little sweet oil 
upon the surface, and put it to stand where it can get cold, and 
where no one will touch it. When cold, put in a stick, and the 
fluid, previously clear, will at once become opaque, and begin 
to crystallize, until at length there is a solid crystalline mass. 

ICE ON FIRE. 

Make a hole in a block of ice with a hot poker. Pour out 
the water, and fill up the cavity with camphorated spirits of 
wine. Then ignite the spirit with a match, and the lump of 
ice will seem to be in flames. 

EXPERIMENTS REQUIRING CHEMICAL SOLUTIONS. 

To prepare these solutions, purchase of a druggist a small 
quantity of the solid crystals of the substance needed for the 
experiment you wish to try. Dissolve the crystals in clear 
pure water, and keep the solution in a little bottle, labeled with 
the name. It is seldom that the solutions need be strong. 
When the crystal is a colored one, enough should be used to 
give the water a light tint — blue, yellow, or what it may be. 
None of these solutions will do any harm to the hands, unless 
there is a cut or a wound of any kind upon the skin. It is 
well, also, not to let a drop of any of them fall upon the 
clothes, or upon furniture, for some of them will stain. And 
none of them should ever be tasted, or touched by the lips or 
tongue, many of them being acrid and even poisonous. 

With the acids still greater care is needed, the stronger 
acids being corrosive and poisonous. The greater portion of 



212 HOME TOPICS. 

these substances must likewise not be smelled, as the fumes or 
vapors would affect the nostrils painfully. 

For the proper performance of these experiments with solu- 
tions, etc., — at all events, for the neatest and most elegant 
performance of them, — there should be obtained from the 
chemist's shop about a dozen test-tubes. These are little glass 
vessels, manufactured on purpose, and very cheap. Do not 
take glasses that may afterward be used for drinking or house- 
hold purposes. Be careful to have every one of your experi- 
ment glasses perfectly clean. 

To Produce a Beautiful Violet- Purple Color. — Take a nearly 
colorless solution of any salt of copper. The sulphate is the 
cheapest and handiest. Fill the test-tube or other experiment- 
ing-glass about two-thirds full. Then drop in, slowly, a little 
liquid ammonia. It will cause a beautiful blue to appear, and 
presently a most lovely violet-purple, which, by stirring with a 
glass rod, extends all through the fluid. 

If now you drop into this a very little nitric acid, the fluid 
will again become as clear as pure water. 

To Make a Splendid Scarlet. — Again take some solution of 
sulphate of copper. Add to it a little solution of bichromate 
of potash. Then add a little solution of nitrate of silver, and 
there is produced a splendid scarlet color. 

To Make a Deep Blue. — Now, take a nearly colorless solu- 
tion of sulphate of iron, and drop into it, slowly, a small quan- 
tity of solution of yellow prussiate of potash. This will 
induce a beautiful deep blue, quite different from the blues 
that are produced from copper salts. 

To Make a Yellow Color. — Take a solution of acetate of 
lead, and add a few drops of solution of iodide of potassium^ 
and a most lovely canary-yellow color is produced. 

Invisible Inks. — Nearly all those experiments which result 
in the production of color may be performed in another way, 
and be then applied to the purposes of secret writing. Thus : 

Write with dilute solution of sulphate of copper. The 
writing will be quite invisible, but become blue when held over 
the vapor of liquid ammonia. 



PARLOR MAGIC. 213 

Write with the same solution, and wash the paper with 
solution of yellow prussiate of potash, and the writing, previ- 
ously invisible, will become brown. If you choose, you may 
reverse this method, writing with solution of the prussiate of 
potash, and washing the paper with solution of the copper salt. 

Write with solution of sulphate of iron, and the writing 
will again be invisible. Wash it over with tincture of galls, 
and it becomes black. 

Write with sulphate of iron, and use a wash of yellow 
prussiate of potash, and the writing will come out blue. This 
experiment may likewise be reversed, and with similar result. 

How to Copper a Knife- Blade. — Make a rather strong solu- 
tion of sulphate of copper. Let a clean and polished piece of 
steel or iron, such as the blade of a knife, stand in it for a few 
minutes, and the iron will become covered or incrusted with a 
deposit of pure copper. 

To Make Beaiitifid Crystals. — Dissolve, in different vessels, 
half an ounce each of the sulphates of iron, zinc, copper, soda, 
alumina, magnesia, and potash. The solutions can be made 
more rapidly by using warm water. When the salts are all 
completely dissolved, pour the whole seven solutions into a 
large dish, stir the mixture with a glass rod, then place it in a 
warm place, where it will not be disturbed. By degrees, the 
water will evaporate, and then the salts will re-crystallize, each 
kind preserving its own proper form and color. Some occur 
in groups, some as single crystals. If carefully protected from 
dust, these form extremely pretty ornaments for the parlor. 

Alum Baskets. — These may be prepared by dissolving 
alum in water in such quantity that at last the water can take 
up no more, and the undissolved alum lies at the bottom of the 
vessel. The solution thus obtained is called a saturated one. 
Then procure a common ornamental wire basket, and suspend 
it in the solution, so as to be well covered in every part. 
There should be twice as much solution as will cover the basket. 
The wires of the basket should be wound with worsted, so that 
the surface may be rough. Leave it undisturbed in the solu- 
tion, and gradually the crystals will form all over the surface. 



214 HOME TOPICS. 

Before putting in the basket, it is best to further strengthen the 
solution by boihng it down to one-half, after which it should 
be strained. 

The Lead-Tree. — Dissolve half an ounce of acetate of lead 
in six ounces of water. The solution will be turbid, so clarify 
it with a few drops of acetic acid. Now put the solution into 
a clean phial, nearly filHng the phial. Suspend in the solution, 
by means of a thread attached to the cork, a piece of clean 
zinc wire. By degrees the wire will become covered with 
beautiful metallic spangles, like the foliage of a tree. 



HOW TO MAKE AND STOCK A SALT- 
WATER AQUARIUM. 

ALMOST all of you — boys and girls — know what an 
aquarium is, and many of you have, no doubt, wished 
to own one ; but the tanks made of French plate-glass and 
iron, for sale in the shops, are so expensive that few can afford 
to buy them ; for those who cannot, I will tell how we — that 
is, my nephew Frank and myself — made ours for less than two 
dollars ; and it answers every purpose. 

Of course you must wait until spring before you can stock 
an aquarium, but it should be made in the winter ; and it is 
also well to learn now what to do when spring comes. 

First, we took a piece of planed pine board, two feet two 
inches long, and one foot two inches wide, for the bottom of 
the tank ; this was just about an inch thick. Then four pieces 



A SALT-WATER AQUARIUM. 21$ 

of hard wood or pine, one foot in length each, and about an 
inch square. These corner posts now had to be grooved so as 
to admit the glass at right angles. The posts were then fitted 
into a shallow place at the angles formed by a groove which 
we had made in the bottom board, and a screw driven into each 
through from the under side. The frame was now ready for 
the glass, the posts being set so as to leave about an inch of 
the bottom board projecting all around. 

We then bought our glass, the side pieces measuring two 
feet long and a foot wide, the end pieces a foot square. We 
had the grooves in the corner sticks wide enough for the glass 
to slip in easily; it might have broken while we were trying 
to get it in, had we not taken that precaution. Then we nailed 
a slat of wood, an inch wide, all around the board on the out- 
side of the glass. For the top, we made four grooved sticks 
to bind the glass, and secured them to the corner pieces ; but 
as the corner pieces and glass sides were of the same height, 
we were careful to have the grooved part of the top pieces 
deeper than where they were secured at the corners. 

Carpenters use a kind of cement that they call "rubber 
cement." For a few cents we bought enough to cover the 
bottom and the corners of our tank neatly. Then all around 
the bottom, on the wood outside the glass, we arranged shells 
in putty; then, having painted black the wood-work yet visi- 
ble, our tank was done. We knew better than to use white 
lead in the putty, or paint of any kind on the inside. 

By the time we had finished the tank, it was too late to 
think of stocking it; so we put it away till spring should come; 
then we were delighted to find that the cement had dried 
as hard as marble, though had we examined it months before 
we should have found it just as hard. This cement requires 
only a short time for drying. 

We washed the tank out nicely, and made a place for it on 
a window-seat, where we could open the window back of it, to 
keep the water cool; for the cooler the water in an aquarium is 
kept, the better. In hot weather, it is sometimes necessary to 
place ice around the tank, or put a few pieces in the water. 



2l6 HOME TOPICS. 

STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 

Stocking an aquarium is a great deal pleasanter than mak- 
ing the tank. Having procured a long-handled net, a tin pail, 
a long, stout fishing-line, with several large hooks firmly 
secured at one end, and something that will hold water enough 
to fill your tank, you set out for specimens. Ours is a salt- 
water aquarium; and as I am drawing only from our per- 
sonal experience, I will say nothing of any other kind. 

First, seek some place where you know the water is very 
deep, or deep enough for a large vessel to sail in; then take 
out your line, and throw it overboard; let the hooks go as far 
down as they will; never mind baiting them; what you want 
to catch will come up without it. 

Your hooks have caught in something: a hard pull, and up 
comes a sponge. Sponges soon die in aquariums, and are 
injurious to the water; so, although your prize is handsome 
and curious, you will throw it overboard. 

What have you caught this time ? Nothing but a bunch 
of mussels, all matted together; yes, and half an old clam- 
shell attached to them ; on the shell is something as large as a 
hen's egg, that looks like a piece of shrunken leather, only it 
is soft, like jelly. It does not look like a flower now, but it is 
one. Wait till you see it in your aquarium, after it has had a 
little time to recover from its alarm ! It is an ajiimatcd flower, 
called the sea-anemone. You will take great pleasure in feed- 
ing it, as it will eat meat as fast as you will, in comparison to 
its size. Put it, just as it is, into your pail, then throw out 
your line again; for you must have some more of them, of 
different colors. 

Up come two on one shell ! That is capital ! Now you 
have a dark-red one, a yellow one, and a delicate pink-and- 
white one. Those will be all the anemones you will want. 

There is something attached to the little stone that came 
up with the last anemone. It looks like a diminutive bush, 
with very delicate creamy-pink branches, and on, the end of 
each is a dark pink jelly-like knob, — that is another hve ani- 



A SALT-WATER AQUARIUM. 21/ 

mal ; and as it is a small one of its kind, you can put it, stone 
and all, into the pail. Never mind if you have knocked off two 
or three of its heads; they will grow again. 

Now we will go to yonder creek, and see what we can get 
with our net. Scoop it along the bank, and let some mud 
come, too. Now, what is in it ? Some shrimps, and some little 
fishes. You will want a dozen shrimps, at least; and of the 
fishes — small minnows and sticklebacks — choose three or four 
of each. Now, from the salt grass at your feet, pick a dozen 
or more snails; they are not very handsome, or interesting, 
but are indispensable in an aquarium, as they keep the grass 
clean and eat all the decaying vegetable matter. 

Now a few plants, to supply oxygen to the water, will be 
all that is necessary. Choose two or three stones, as large 
as hens' eggs, with a generous crop of green sea- weed upon 
them. The brown and red sea- weeds usually do more harm 
than good; but that little stone of brown rock- weed you can 
take, as I see a pink bunch upon it, which I will tell you all 
about when you get it in your aquarium. 

There is a small stone full of barnacles; take that, too; for 
the barnacles are very interesting — to the sticklebacks. Now 
you can start for home with your collection. 

Your tank is all ready, in the north window of the sitting- 
room, where the sun never comes. Arrange your plants in it 
carefully, without detaching them from the stones they are on ; 
then place the anemones in front, where they will have room, 
to expand, and where they can be seen easily; then put in the 
fishes, shrimps, snails, etc., and fill up the tank with the clear, 
pure, salt water you brought. 

Now look at the animated bush, attached to the stone ! 
Every one of the jelly-like knobs, at the extremity of every 
branchlet, has expanded, and you have no less than twenty 
beautiful flowers, resembling the cyclamen, with pearly white 
petals, and centers deeper-colored than peach-blossoms; only 
the petals in this case are called tentacles, and are thrown 
out to catch whatever comes in their way in the shape of 
food. 



21 8 HOME TOPICS. 

The little pink bunch attached to the sea-weed has opened, 
also, and you see what resembles a dozen or more star-like 
flowers, on stems a quarter of an inch long: every one of them 
is a separate animal, as that foolish shrimp just proved to you ; 
for, as he was swimming lazily by, he allowed his fan-like tail 
to come within their reach, and these zoophytes immediately 
closed around it; but the shrimp was fortunate enough to 
get away. 

Wait a minute, till I tell you what that big word means ! 
Zoophytes means ''animal plants" (from two Greek words — 
zoon, an animal, and phuton, a plant), and is applied to sponges, 
corals, sea-anemones, and all those numerous beings that were 
at first supposed to hold a middle position between the animal 
and vegetable kingdoms, but whose natures have since been 
ascertained to be strictly animal. 

Now look at your anemones ! The yellow one has spread 
out like a great sunflower, on a stem as large around as a tea- 
cup, and three inches long. That stem is its body. The flat 
bottom of the stem has to answer for feet, and it will soon 
walk out of the shell it is on, if it becomes dissatisfied with its 
new dwelHng-place. One of ours became discontented, and 
was two days walking over the glass. At last he attached 
himself to the cemented bottom of the tank, where he now 
appears to be perfectly contented. They move by suction, 
after the manner of snails. 

Every one of their numerous tentacles has power to sting 
and paralyze whatever small prey comes within its reach, so 
they are able to catch and devour fish nearly as large as them- 
selves. The little fishes in our aquarium seem to know all 
about them, and it is seldom one will approach them ; but yes- 
terday, as I was trying to remove with a small stick a piece of 
meat that I had dropped on an anemone, a minim, that had 
been watching me, offered to assist me, and approached the 
anemone near enough to touch one of its tentacles; then away 
it darted, shaking its head. 

I had the curiosity to insert my finger in among the ten- 
tacles, and immediately experienced a sensation in it like a 



A SALT-WATER AQUARIUM. 2ig 

slight galvanic shock, and from my finger to my wrist was 
quite numb for several hours afterward. 

You did not know how barnacles worked before, did you ? 
Each one of them is now throwing out a full dozen of deli- 
cately constructed feelers, that look like diminutive ostrich- 
plumes; on these they catch their food, which is too small to 
be seen by the naked eye. It is amusing to watch them as 
they work. One would imagine they had clocks inside their 
shells to time themselves by, so regular are their movements. 

Here is a stickleback admiring them, too. It is poised 
motionless in the water above them, with the three sharp 
horns upon its back sticking up threateningly; now he darts 
down, and, taking all of one barnacle's feelers in his mouth, 
he bites them off, shaking his head savagely because they do 
not come easily. 

What is the shrimp about to do that is climbing up the 
stone, running the risk of getting his delicate feet caught in 
the barnacle-shells as they close ? He pauses before the 
barnacle the stickleback has just left, and thrusting his two- 
fingered hand into the partly opened shell, pulls off a piece of 
the poor body, and conveys it to his mouth, watching you all 
the while with his great goggle eyes, and looking for all the 
world like '^Jacky Horner," who *' put in his thumb and 
pulled out a plum." You may be sure he will not leave that 
shell till it is as clean inside as it is out. 

A pair of our sticklebacks have just built a nest of sea- 
weed in one corner of our aquarium, and are guarding it all 
the time. Woe to the minnow who should be so unfortunate 
as to approach it! We are watching every day for the Httle 
fish to make their appearance. Papa Stickleback attends to 
the nest now, but soon the old mother-fish will have all she 
can do to keep her children at home and out of danger; for, 
as there are two doors to her nest, they will dart out of one 
door nearly as fast as she can put them in at the other. Her 
way of carrying them cannot be agreeable to the little ones, 
for she takes them in her mouth, and often swallows them; but 
when she re-deposits them in the nest, they are well, and Hvely. 



220 HOME TOPICS. 

You will want to feed your anemones every day, with 
small pieces of dried meat. You will be astonished to see 
how many different shapes they will take; for, besides looking 
like different flowers, they will at times contract their bodies 
and resemble vases full of flowers; then they will droop their 
tentacles, and resemble the weeping- willow tree; then they 
will turn all their tentacles inside their bodies, and look like 
long thimbles; and when you touch them with a stick, down 
they will drop as flat as fried eggs. 

Your greatest trouble will be to keep the water pure, 
unless you should be so fortunate as to just balance the vege- 
table and animal life ; in that case, everything will thrive. 

It is better to have a few good healthy animals than many; 
and if one dies, it should be removed at once. 

The green dulse, or sea-cabbage, is the best for the vege- 
table element of the aquarium; and it should be washed 
before being placed within. A good way to send air into the 
tank is to dip up the water carefully, and let it fall in such a 
manner as to make bubbles. 

Those who live near the salt water can easily renew the 
water in their aquariums, if it becomes impure; but those who 
live at a distance from the coast can restore the water to its 
original purity by filtering it through a sponge. The trouble 
will be nothing in comparison to the joy you will experi- 
ence on beholding the gratitude expressed by the animated 
beings in your aquarium. 

As there has been so much done lately in the business of 
making aquariums, it is quite possible to purchase cheap iron 
ones; and better still, we often see second-hand ones of all 
sizes for sale very cheap. In the city, the bird-dealers and 
"'Old Curiosity" men have them, and in nearly all large 
towns there are naturalists and taxidermists who either have 
them or will kindly give all information about them. So if 
our home-made aquarium is not just what our readers care to 
have, they can with very little cost secure a better. We have 
seen aquaria made very strongly and durably of stone and 
iron. A flat piece of slate, or freestone, or marble, is easily 



SKATE-SAILING. 221 

grooved, and then a blacksmith can easily make iron standards 
or corner posts with grooves ; these can be fitted into holes at 
the corners, and secured firmly by screws from beneath. We 
think that it is better to have the tank of stone or iron, if 
practicable, as the wood almost always swells to such an 
extent that it soon becomes troublesome. 

A very pleasant aquarium, and a very handsome one, is 
soon made by taking one of the large cake-bells of the confec- 
tioner, and setting it on a wooden stand to support it. You 
can easily do it by boring a hole in a stout piece of pine to 
admit the handle. You have then a beautiful tank, and one 
that will not leak. This is also very easily cleaned, which is 
an important point. 



SKATE-SAILING. 

VERY few skaters have not, now and then, to a moderate 
extent, made ice-boats of themselves by standing up 
straight, with their backs to the wind, and allowing themselves 
to be blown along before it. Coats, held wide open, umbrellas,, 
shawls, and the like, have been used to gain greater speed; 
but, after all was done, there remained the long pull back 
against the wind — no laughing matter, with the thermometer 
in the twenties, or lower, and a howhng north-wester sending 
the loose snow in stinging sheets along the ice. There was so 
much fun, however, in running down before the gale, that boys 
have always made light of working to windward. Why in the 
world it did not sooner occur to some ingenious lad that 
he could turn himself into an efftcient ice-boat, is one of those 
things that cannot be explained ; but certain it is that, until 
last winter, the world at large did not know that Canadians 
were in the habit of rigging themselves with spars and canvas, 
sailing "■ close-hauled," '' running free," having themselves 
" taken aback," ** missing stays," being struck by squalls, and^ 



222 



HOME TOPICS. 



in short, going through no end of fascinating maneuvers, with 
the aid of the wind and without danger of a ducking in case 
of an upset. 

The name of the inventor of skate-saiHng has not been 
announced, but his plan was the simple one of stretching 
an oblong sail on a hght frame, and holding it by means of a 
spar reaching from end to end. With this, it is possible 
to do everything that an ice-boat can be expected to do. But 
the crew works at a disadvantage: the steersman can see only 
one-half as much as he ought to see, and of course stands 
in constant danger of collision. To lift or lower the sail, so as 
to see if the way is clear, is a somewhat awkward operation. 

Another difficulty with this form of sail is, that its spars 
must be somewhat heavy, in order to bear the strain of suffi- 
cient bracing, as there is a tendency on the part of the sail 
to twist and make a complete wreck of itself and crew. The 




THE UMBRELLA STYLE. 



latest improvement does away effectually with both these 
imperfections, and seems to provide a nearly perfect device for 
skate-sailing. 

In the first place, the sail is divided into foresail and main- 
sail, so that the crew has his whole course in plain sight 
between the two. Secondly, the main spar is made double, so 



SKATE- SAILING. 



223 



that it affords two points of support for each of the '' yards " or 
cross-pieces, and renders the whole affair so strong that com- 
paratively light spars may be used. -In the diagram given on 




THE OLD STYLE OF SKATE-SAILING. 



the next page, A G is the main spar, from eight to twelve feet 
long, according to the size and strength of the crew. It is 
made of bamboo, or some light native wood like spruce or pine. 
The pieces should not be less than an inch and a half in diam- 
eter in the middle. They may be tapered toward the ends, but 
one side of each should be left flat. Each piece, in short, is 
shaped like an archer's bow, much lengthened. The flat sides 
are laid together, and the ends at A and G are lashed firmly 
with strong twine. In or near each end, at A and G, is set a 
button to hold the clew — corner, that is — of the sail. 

The best spar yet devised is made of four pieces of bamboo, 
with brass fishing-rod ferrules at the butts, fitting into one 
another at M. Brass tips hold the smaller ends of the bam- 
boos together at A and G. The butts join at the middle of the 
spar, which can thus be taken to pieces and easily carried. 

The sails are made from the heaviest cotton sheeting — 
unbleached is best. Tack the material smoothly on the floor, 
and mark out the sails, making ample allowance for heavy 



224 



HOME TOPICS. 



hems. Stitch stout tape all around where the edges are to be, 
and have the hem as strong as possible, especially at the cor- 
ners, sewing through the tape and several thicknesses of the 
sheeting. If the sails are to keep their shape, the tape is indis- 
pensable. Stout laid cord (cotton or hemp), sewn around the 
edges and forming small loops at the clews, makes a desirable 
finish, but is not absolutely necessary. Instead, small brass oi 
galvanized rings may be sewn to the clews. These rings must 
be large enough to catch easily on the pins or knobs in the 
spar-ends. 

The sails may range in size from three to five feet square, 
according to the size, strength, and weight of the skater. It is 




D H 

DIAGRAM OF NEW SKATE-SAIL. 



not difhcult to arrange them for reefing, but they are so easily 
adjustable to the wind without reefing, that this is hardly 
necessary. 

The cross-yards are quite light. Bamboo, five-eighths of an 
inch thick at the smaller end, is probably heavy enough for the 
largest practicable sail. They must be made three or four 
inches longer than the diagonal of the sail. Near the ends of 
the yards are buttons similar to those on the spar. To the mid- 
dle of each yard is firmly lashed a cleat, some three to five 
inches long (K in the above diagram), whose ends are shaped 
so as to receive and hold the two pieces of the main spar, 
when they are sprung apart. 

Two opposite clews of the sail are now hooked over the 
buttons at the ends of the yard, the main spar is sprung apart 



SKATE-SAILING. 225 

until the cleat can be inserted and held at right angles between 
its pieces, as at J. The yard is pushed along until the clew of 
the sail can be hooked over the button at the spar-end. The 
other sail is then put in position similarly at the other end of 
the spar, and the two remaining clews, at C and E, are strained 
together with a strap or cord as tightly as the material will 
permit. The whole affair is exceedingly light, strong, and 
elastic, and will stand any reasonable amount of strain. 

Such is the rig. Now, the question is, how to manage it. 
This is a far less complicated matter than in the case of a sail- 
boat, although the principle is the same. If you are caught 
by a squall, all you have to do is to let go of everything, and 
your sails will fall flat on the ice and await your pleasure. 

In running before the wind, all you have to do is to hold 
the spar across the course of the wind, steer with your feet, 
and go as fast as the wind does. You can vary your course at 
will considerably to the right or left without altering the posi- 
tion of the sail. 

When your course is nearly at right angles to that of the 
wind, or against it, you will naturally take the spar under one 
or the other arm, and point the foresail more or less in the 
direction from which the wind comes. 

Call the diagram on the next page a pond, with the wind 
blowing from top to bottom. In this diagram, the black spots 
represent the skater, the arrows the direction in which he sails 
under different conditions, and the long line, etc., the spar and 
sails. In his first course down the middle of the pond, he 
grasps the spar by the middle, or holds it under his arms 
behind him. Squaring away with his back to the wind, as at 
A, he sails before it to the lower end of the pond, moving his 
feet only for the purpose of steering. In order to make the 
wind take him back to his starting-point, he turns his sails at 
an acute angle to the course of the wind, as at B, C, D, and 
E, instead of across it, as at A. If pointed nearly as at B or 
C, it will carry him directly across the pond. If as at D and 
E, it will carry him more or less up the pond, as indicated 
by the arrows. When he reaches the shore on one tack, — 
15 



226 



HOME TOPICS. 



say that represented by E, — he '' goes about," that is, changes 
the direction of his sails so that they point as at D. The 
wind will now carry him on a slant to the opposite shore, 






DIAGRAM FOR TACKING. 



which he will reach at a point still nearer the head of the 
pond. Thus, by zigzagging from one side to the other, 
now on one tack, and now on the other, he may work his 
way to windward. 

Experiment alone can show each individual how best to 
trim his sails, whether to carry his spar under his windward 
or leeward arm, or before or behind him. Tastes differ in 
all these particulars. So in going about, — changing, that is, 
from one tack to the other, — each must adopt the method 
which he personally finds most convenient. One, perhaps, will 
pass the spar over his head ; another will let the foresail fall 



SKATE-SAILING. 22/ 

off to leeward, and bring up the mainsail on the other side, so 
that it will in turn become the foresail. In all these particu- 
lars, each must be a law unto himself; but in regard to 
avoiding collisions, it is plainly necessary to have a general 
understanding, and the rules of the Hudson River Ice-Boat 
Club, adapted to skate-sailing, are perhaps the best. 

RULES FOR SKATE-SAILING. 

I. Skate-sailers on the port tack must give way to those 
on the starboard tack. 

II. When skate-sailers are moving side by side, or nearly 
so, on the same tack, those to windward must give way to 
those to leeward when requested to do so, if there is an 
obstacle in the course of the leewardmost But the leeward 
skate-sailer must go about or change his course at the same 
time as the windward skate-sailer, or as soon as he can without 
coming into collision. The new direction must be kept, at 
least until the obstacle has been cleared. 

III. When skate-sailers are moving side by side, as in Rule 
II., and approaching a windward obstacle, the leewardmost 
must give way when requested to do so. But the windward- 
most must change his course at the same time as the leeward- 
most, or as soon as he can do so without coming into collision, 
and the new direction must be kept, at least until the obstacle 
has been cleared. 

IV. When skate-sailers are running free, it rests with the 
rearmost ones to avoid colHsion. 

V. Skate-sailers running free must always give way to those 
on either tack. 

VI. Skate-sailers who violate any of the foregoing rules in 
the course of a race shall forfeit all claim to the victory. 

VII. A touch, whether of person or of rig, constitutes a 
collision, either with another skate-sailer, or with a mark or 
buoy, and he who is responsible for it, under the rules, forfeits 
all claim to the victory. 

VIII. No means of locomotion, other than that afforded by 
the wind, is permissible during a race. 



228 



HOME TOPICS. 



For the benefit of those who are not famiHar with sea- 
terms, it should be stated that ''running free" means saihng 
before, or nearly before, the wind. '' Close-hauled," or " on 
the wind," means sailing sharply across its course. When the 
skater's right side is presented to the wind, he is on the star- 
board tack ; when his left side is presented to the wind, he is on 
the port tack. 

The possibility of using the sail on an ordinary coasting- 
sled will naturally occur to every skater. This can be accom- 




A FLEET UNDER SAIL. 



plished with the aid of a few additional fixtures. A regular 
ice-boat has three runners — two in front and one in the rear. 
The latter is pivoted, so that it can be turned from side to side 
like the rudder of a boat, and used in like manner for steering. 
The first thing to be done with a sled is to provide it with 
sharp shoes, which will not slip over the ice sidewise. A pair 
of skates, or skate-blades, fastened one to each runner near the 



SKATE-SAILING. 229 

bend, are as good as anything. The fitting of the after-runner 
is a more complicated affair, if fastened to the sled, and it is 
not worth while to give directions for it here. The simplest 
way is to let the after part of the sled rest on its own proper 
runners, and depend on the feet for steering, or use a stout 
stick shod with iron. A blade-shaped iron is best, as it pre- 
sents an edge to the ice. 

It is possible to kneel on the sled and hold the sail under 
the arm, but a mast about three feet high, stepped at the side 
of the sled, is better. If but one mast is carried, it must be 
arranged so that it can be readily shifted from one side to the 
other. The head of the mast is crotched to receive the upper 
spar; or a hook, large enough to hold it, is inserted an inch or 
two below the mast-head. The lower spar rests against the 
mast, and is held there by the crew with one of his hands. A 
crew of two, on a long sled of the so-called *' pig-sticker" 
variety, can do very pretty work, one tending the sail and the 
other steering ; but a crew of one will think that he needs at 
least two extra pair of hands, until he gets the knack of the 
thing. 

It is suggested that more sail can be carried by a single 
skater if his yard-arms are shod with light metal disks, so that 
they can be allowed to rest on the ice and act as runners. So 
far as known, this has not been actually tried. It looks prom- 
ising, but will necessitate rather heavier yards. 

This new winter sport opens for all skaters a fresh field 
of enjoyment. Races or, if you please, '' regattas " can be 
indulged in to any extent, and individual skill in the manage- 
ment of one's self under canvas will afford exhilarating exercise 
for brain and body, without in the least increasing the dangen 
Girls as well as boys, ladies as well as gentlemen, can take part 
in this pastime, and, indeed, one of the best ways of managing 
a sail is to have a double crew, one holding the spar '' for'ard " 
and the other ''aft." 

Of course, if the girls have anything to do with sails, they 
will very soon begin to decorate them, and use colored mate- 
rial. A set of sails made of silk would be amazingly pretty in 



230 



HOME TOPICS. 



combination with a tasteful skating-costume, skimming across 
the gleaming surface of a frozen lake, and the effect would 
be heightened by little colored streamers flying from the 
yard-arm. 

Skate-sailing is a delightful exercise and recreation for the 
members of a single household, and it would not be surprising 
if skate-saihng clubs should become popular in many parts of 
the country. 




A GENTLE CRAFT. 



1« • • • [• • 

• • • • 
• • » • • • 



NEW DOMINO GAMES. 23 1 

NEW DOMINO GAMES. 

HE game of dominos has never had very- 
great popularity in America, and, indeed, 
has not received the attention that it 
deserves. Less laborious than chess, and 
less exciting than cards, it partakes of 
the skill and chance of both. 
The two games described below are both founded upon the 
principles of different games at cards, and vary considerably 
from the old *' Muggins," *' Bergen Game," etc. 

"BID." 

This game may be played by not less than two, or more 
than five, persons. The dominos are reckoned in suits, from the 
doublet downward. Thus, in the suit of sixes, the double-six 
is the highest, the six-five next, the six-four, six- three, etc., to 
the six-blank. In fives, the double-five, five-six, five-four, etc. 
In blanks, the double blank, blank-six, blank-five, etc. Observe 
that all the pieces excepting the doublets count in two suits. 

The game is thirty-two, — one being counted for each trick 
taken when a bid is successful, — and five tricks make a hand. 

The dominos having been properly shuffled, five are dealt 
to each player. The one at the dealer's left then ''bids" for 
tricks. That is, out of the five tricks which make the hand he 
offers to take a certain number. If he bids for less than five, 
the player on his left has the privilege of overbidding him. 
Whoever bids for the highest number of tricks chooses the 
trumps, and leads. All dominos excepting trumps call suit to 
the end having most spots, all trumps being played and called 
in the suit of trumps instead of their own. A player is obliged 
to follow suit when he has it. Doublets, being the highest in 
their respective suits, if led, can only be taken by trumps. If 
played, however, they do not take a trick, unless in suit to the 
larger end of the piece led. Trumps and dominos led are 
taken by a piece higher in their respective suits. 

The person making trumps must take all the tricks for 



232 HOME TOPICS. 

which he bids, and can count no more ; if he fails to take 
them, his score is to be set back as much as he has bid ; 
except when the game is between two persons only, in which 
case the number bidden for by the loser should be added to the 
score of his opponent. Thus, if a player bids for four tricks, 
he can count but four although he take all the hand. If he fail 
to take four, his score is diminished by that number ; or, if two 
play, his adversary's is increased by four. 

The policy of the game is only to be learned by experience, 
but a few suggestions to beginners may not be amiss. In 
deciding how many tricks to bid for, it is usually safe to count 
all the dominos in the same suit (that suit to be made trumps), 
and the doublets held. Care must, however, be taken not to 
depend too much on trumps which are low in their suits ; 
though the smaller the number of players, the greater the risks 
one may run. It is an advantage to have the lead, so that it 
is usually best in bidding for any less than five, while playing 
trumps or doublets first, to retain a trump with which to 
recover the lead, if lost. 

As illustration, suppose two persons, A and B, to be play- 
ing. A deals, and in his own hand finds the six-four, five-one, 
six-blank, five-blank, and double-blank. B has the six-five, 
four-two, three-one, three-blank, and double-two. It is B's 
first '' bid," and he says he will bid for three tricks. A replies : 

" I will bid for four, and I make blanks trumps." 

He then plays the double-blank. B follows with the three- 
blank, as he must match a trump with a trump, if possible. A 
leads the six-blank, and B, having no trump, puts down his 
lowest piece, the three-one. A plays the six-four, to which B 
must give his six-five as " suit" to the larger end. This wins 
the trick for B, who leads double-two, his best domino. Fort- 
unately for A, he has no two, and so is at liberty to take the 
doublet with his trump, five-blank. He then lays down his 
five-one, which B cannot take, as he has no suit. Thus A wins 
his four tricks and scores four points. If B had not been over- 
bid he would have named twos as trumps, playing double-two, 
six-five, and four-two in succession. 



NEW DOMINO GAMES. 233 

'' WESTPHALIAN GAME." 

Played by two or three players. The suits count as before, 
except that the double-blank is always the highest trump. The 
doublet next below the doublet of trumps is third in the game, 
but is called and played in its own suit. After this, dominos of 
the suit of trumps come in order. Thus, if fives are trumps, 
the double-blank is highest, then double-five, double-four, five- 
six, five-four, etc. If ones are trumps, double-blank, double- 
one, double-six, one-six, one-five, etc. 

The counts are as follows, the game being thirty-two. The 
first trick played counts one ; the last two tricks count one each ; 
one is scored for any three tricks taken without the introduc- 
tion of a trump. [There is one exception to this, — if the 
doublet below trumps, which is the third in the game, takes a 
trick by its power as thii'd in the game, the trick is not to be 
counted as one of the three by suit] At the end of a hand, 
the excess of doublets held by any player is added to his 
score. 

Five dominos are dealt as in " Bid," the dealer ending by 
turning up a domino, the larger end of which indicates the 
suit of trumps. If the double-blank is turned, sixes are 
trumps. The player on the left of the dealer has the liberty of 
rejecting any one of his own dominos, and taking the turned 
trump in its stead. If he passes, the next player has the same 
right. If it comes to the dealer and he passes also, he must 
turn it down, and turn a fresh trump, which, however, must 
not be in the suit rejected. The choice of discarding for the 
new trump belongs as before to the player at the dealer's left ; 
and the person taking up the trump has the lead. As fast as a 
player plays a piece, he draws one from the pool, keeping five 
constantly in hand until all the dominos are distributed. 

As in '' Bid," suit must be followed. The main points are 
to secure as many doublets as possible, securing the first and 
last two points, and while, if possible, getting "three by suit" 
yourself, to prevent this in your opponent. Use small trumps 
if you can in taking doublets and third tricks. 



234 HOME TOPICS. 

A KNOTTY SUBJECT 

IF Alexander the Great had been a sailor, instead of a 
soldier, he would have quietly untied that Gordian knot, 
and the world would never have heard about it. Cutting it 
with his sword, like an angry boy, made the act famous. 
Alexander was, however, by no means the first to lose his 
temper over a knot, though he is, perhaps, the first of 
whom history makes special mention. It is safe to say 
that the Garden of Eden saw the first knots tied and 
untied, and the process is bound to go on to the very 
end of time. 

The art of making knots is of immense importance on 
shipboard. Every day the safety of life and property depends 
upon the security with which they are tied. On shore these 
knots may be of less general consequence, but a knot that 
will hold is certainly far better anywhere than one that will 
slip, and occasions often arise when an expert knot-maker is 
an exceedingly useful person. So, boys, find a piece of heavy 
twine or small rope like an ordinary clothes-line, and learn a 
few of the regular knots, bends, and hitches. 

A ''knot," as a sailor understands the term, is more per- 
manent than a "hitch," and a ''bend" is a sort of half-way 
name, which may be either one or the other. A good knot, 
when once tightened, never slips, but at the same time it does 
not ''jam" so that it cannot be readily untied. A "hitch" is 
made and cast off more quickly and easily than a knot, and is 
not usually trusted for permanent duty. For convenience of 
description, in many of the following examples, the line is 
supposed to have one end made fast to some fixed object. 
Take hold of it, and the part between your hand and the 
point where it is fastened becomes the "standing-part," while 
the rest is the "end-part," or "running-part." Wherever the 
term "bight" is used, it means the same as loop. In the 
illustrations, the knots are generally represented before they 
are tightened, so that their formation can be more clearly 
shown. 



A KNOTTY SUBJECT. 



235 



A SQUARE OR REEF KNOT. (FIGURE I.) 

This is generally made with two ends of a line (or the ends 
of two lines, as the case may be) around some object, as a 
spar, or a furled sail. Let A and B (Figure i) represent the 
two ends. Pass one over and then under the other, as in the 
lower part of Figure i. This makes a simple ''overhand knot.'* 
Repeat it with the ends as indicated by the dotted lines, haul 
taut, and you have the square or reef knot complete, as shown 
in the upper part of the diagram. Notice that the loop made 
by B passes over both parts of A, and that made by A passes 
under both parts of B. If either of the loops divides the 
parts passing through it, you have made what sailors call a 
"granny," which will slip. Ends of different-sized lines can- 
not be tied securely together by this knot. 

A BOWLINE KNOT. (FIGURE 2.) 

Make fast one end of your line. Take a turn, or ''goose- 
neck," C, in standing-part, and hold this in position with your 
left-hand while you pass the end-part, B, up through C, 
behind and around A, and finally down through C. Then. 





FIG. I. SQUARE KNOT. 



FIG. 2. BOWLINE KNOT. 



haul taut. This is not precisely the way in which a sailor 
does it, but is simplest to describe. If you would tie the 
knot in true nautical style, lay the end-part across the standing- 



236 



HOME TOPICS. 



part, and with a turn of the left wrist place the goose-neck, C, 
over it. Finish as before. 

A BowHne upon a Bight (Figure 3) is made with a double 
line. Let A and A' represent the doubled standing-part and 
B the bight of the doubled line (in this case the end-part). 
Make a bight, C, as in simple bowline, and pass B up through 
it (see dotted lines, Figure 3). So far, the knot is practically the 
same; but now B must be pulled through C, and spread open 
sufficiently to bend it downward and over the larger bights, C 
and D, and then up again until it surrounds the doubled 
standing-part, A A'. Pull it downward until it binds A A' 
tightly, and the knot is complete. A safe way of lowering a 





FIG. 3. BOWLINE UPON BIGHT. 



FIG. 4. BECKET-HITCH, 



person from a window in case of fire would be to shorten one 
of the bights at D, let the person sit in the longer bight, and 
put the shorter one behind the back and under the arms. The 
bowline in its different forms is perhaps the most useful of 
knots, being perfectly secure and very easily tied. Two sim- 
ple bowlines, made through one another, bend lines together 
with absolute security, and this cannot always be done with a 
single knot where the lines are of different sizes. 

BECKET-HITCH OR BEND. (FIGURE 4.) 

This is the most trustworthy single knot for fastening two 
ends together. Make a bight, B (Figure 4), in one line. Pass the 



A KNOTTY SUBJECT. 



'2-17 



end of the other from behind through it and once around both 
parts, A A', of the bight. Then down under its own part as at 
C, and haul taut, taking care not to let the turn taken around 
A A' slip down over B. A single turn 
around A A' makes a Becket-hitch ; a 
double turn makes a Double-hitch. 
Either is secure. 

A ROLLING-HITCH, HALF-HITCHES, 
ETC. (figure 5.) 

Half-hitches are made with a line 
around its own standing-part. In Fig- 
ure 5, C O are half-hitches. Pass the 
end-part B around standing-part A, 
then between its own part E and the 
spar. The same motions will make half-hitch marked C', and 
so you may keep on indefinitely if you wish. Two half-hitches 
are also known as a "Clove-hitch." The Rolling-hitch shown 
in Figure 5 is made by first taking two round turns, D D, about 
a spar. Half-hitches are extremely useful in an infinite 
variety of ways, one of which is in making a "Sheep- 




FIG. 5. ROLLING-HITCH. 




FIG. 6. 



SHEEP-SHANK. 



shank" (Figure 6). But you must first learn to lay a 
half-hitch over anything — as, for instance, a stick — with- 
out taking the end through. Look at Figure 6, and you 



238 



HOME TOPICS. 



-will see that C and E are nothing more than half-hitches 
'Over D and F. Experiment on the end of a stick, and 
you will soon find that, by making a small bight or goose- 
neck, as in the bowline knot, you can lay it over, forming a 
half-hitch, or as many half-hitches as you like, around the 
stick. Now suppose you wish to shorten a rope which is made 
fast at each end — a swing, for instance — without climbing up 
to undo it. There will be two standing-parts, A A'. First 
double the line on itself as at B, holding the parts together 
with the left-hand. Secondly, make a goose-neck, C, and lay 
it over D, as above directed, making a half-hitch around the 
two parts D. Thirdly, make a similar goose-neck, E, and lay 
it in like manner over F. Pull tight in the direction of A and 

A', and you will find that your rope 

is securely shortened. 

A BLACKWALL HITCH. (FIGURE 7.) 

Form a bight by placing the run- 
ning-part (B) across and under the 
standing-part (A). Put this over a 
hook (as the hook of a tackle-block) 
from below, so that the inside of the 
bight rests against the back of the 
hook, and the parts cross in the bend 
of the hook, the standing-part being 
on top. A rope fastened to the handle of a bucket by means 
of this hitch is readily attached and detached to and from 
the hook of a tackle-block. 




FIG. 7. BLACKWALL HITCH. 



A cat's-paw. (figure 8.) 

This is used wherever a ''Blackwall" would be used. 
Take the lines with both hands a short distance apart. Let the 
ends A and B, and the bight, hang downward loosely, the 
hands being at C and D. Turn the bights C and D round and 
round twice, either outward or inward. The motion will twist 
A and B around the two parts of the bight E, as shown in the 
cut, leaving the fingers holding the two small bights C and D. 



A KNOTTY SUBJECT. 



239 



Slip these over the hook, and you have a '' Cat's-paw." Either 
A or B, or both of them together, will bear a strain when 
hauled taut. 

Figure 9 shows how a weight, or any number of weights, 
or sinkers, may be fastened to a line. The cut hardly calls for 





CAT'S-PAW. 



FIG. 9. 



explanation. A very little ingenuity will show how this hitch 
is made without putting the end of the line through the bight. 

A TIMBER-HITCH. (FIGURE 10.) 

Pass the running-part (B) under the timber. Carry it up 
to and around standing-part (A), and then pass it twice or 
more around itself, as at C, D, etc. When the standing-part 
is tightened, the line binds around the timber, so that it will 

not slip. The timber-hitch is used in 
hauling spars or timber, and is handy 
for any similar purpose. 

A SINGLE WALL-KNOT. (FIGURE II.) 
INFALLIBLE LOOP. (FIGURE 12.) 

In order to fasten off the end of 
a rope, and prevent its untwisting, 
many plans have been resorted to. 
The most simple, and at the same 
FIG. 10. TIMBER-HITCH. timc thc most effectual, is called a 




240 



HOME TOPICS. 



Single Wall-Knot (Figure 1 1). The three strands are numbered 
I, 2, 3. Take No. i, and make half-loop A. Take No. 2, 
and pass through, under A, retaining the shape somewhat as 




FIG. II. SINGLE WALL-KNOT. 




INFALLIBLE LOOP. 



illustrated by B; then take No. 3, and pass over No. i at D, 
under at E, around and up through B. When the ends are 
pulled tight and cut off evenly, or served (wound, that is) with 
fine thread or twine, it makes a very neat finish. 

The ^'Infallible Loop" (Figure 12) is a thoroughly trust- 
worthy one, and well adapted for the use of archers. The cut 
sufficiently illustrates the manner of making it. When the over- 
hand knot at A is tightened, the end-knot, B, cannot slip through, 
and so a secure loop is formed for the '^ nock" of the bow. 

THE TRUE LOVERS' KNOT. (FIGURES 1 3 AND I4.) 

We may as well conclude this knotty essay with a more 
difficult performance than any thus far attempted, to wit, 





1 IGS. 13 AM) '4. TRUE LOVERS' KNOT 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS. 241 

''The True Lovers' Knot." Two cuts are necessary for the 
explanation of this. First, tie two loose overhand knots, as at 
A A' in Fig. 13. Then pass the bight B between the two 
parts of the line near A', and the bight B' between the two 
parts near A. Pull them through carefully, and the knot will 
assume the shape shown in Figure 14. This knot can be evenly 
tied only by taking pains to adjust the bights so that they will 
be of equal size. It has no general use, but it is employed in 
the navy to carry heavy shot, the loose ends being spliced 
together, forming a fourth bight, so that four men can take 
hold at once. The shot is placed in the central space, C. 
When finished for permanent use, the parts at A A A A are 
served with yarn, so that the space C will keep its proper size. 
The knot is used in hot countries to sling water-jars, or " mon- 
keys," as they are called, so that they will swing and keep the 
water cool. 

Only a few of the knots known to sailors have been 
described ; but we hope the selection has been judicious, and 
will save many of our readers from needless trouble when they 
attempt to tie knots that are expected to do their duty. 



AMA TEUR THE A TRICALS. 

SO much interest is felt in amateur theatricals, even by those 
little acquainted with the best manner of presenting them, 
that a few practical hints in this regard may be found of 
service. 

TPIE PLAY. 

Of course, the first step is to choose the play. The pref- 
erence of the performers, as to the kind of piece to be enacted, 
having been definitely ascertained, a committee should be 
appointed to select the particular piece, and no change of pro- 
gramme should then be permitted. This course is essential, 
16 



242 HOME TOPICS. 

because, if it be not strictly followed, everybody will be offer- 
ing suggestions and insisting on plans, which can only have the 
effect of destroying all concert of action. The chief trouble 
with amateurs is that they aim too high ; that they want to do 
more than they have the mind or means for doing. They 
have an ardent prejudice in favor of Shakespeare or Schiller, 
when Robertson or Boucicault is fully up to their level. As a 
rule, historic dramas are to be avoided. They require scenery, 
costumes, and properties, both difficult and expensive to get. 
Moreover, historic characters are hard to portray — quite 
beyond the intellectual range of an average amateur company. 
Contemporaneous pieces, especially light comedies and farces, 
are comparatively easy of representation, and the actors and 
actresses are all more or less at home in them, from the fact 
that the mimic scene is but a variation of their own lives. 

Scenes from well-known novels are much more satisfactory 
for amateur performances than the little farces of the day, 
which many of the audience have seen represented at the best 
theaters, by actors whom no amateurs can hope to equal. A 
little ingenuity can adapt almost any part of Dickens's novels; 
and stories are constantly appearing which can be very easily 
converted into plays, and have a freshness and a reality which 
are wholly lacking in **Box and Cox," and "Poor Pillicoddy." 
If the scene in itself has some literary merit, all the interest 
of the representation will not depend upon the acting, which 
is a great advantage to the performers. It is hardly worth 
while for intelligent young people to spend weeks in commit- 
ting to memory what they desire to forget as soon as the cur- 
tain falls, when they might, while winning the same dramatic 
laurels, have stored their minds with something worth remem- 
bering. 

THE STAGE MANAGER. 

After the play has been decided upon, the stage manager 
should be chosen. He ought to be the one who has most 
acquaintance with the stage, and he ought not to be a per- 
former. His will must be law; there must be no appeal from 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS. 243 

it. If he be a performer, other members of the company may 
take exception to his ruhng, under the impression that his 
opinion as a manager is influenced by his interest as an actor; 
and thus suspicion and discord may be engendered. He must 
have entire and absolute charge of the stage business, which 
means everything belonging to the action of the play. He 
must be present at every rehearsal; assign to every actor or 
actress his or her position; tell each how to enter; how to go 
off; what intonations to give; what gestures to make. He 
should indicate the facial expression and by-play; should care- 
fully instruct in regard to dress, and every particular of the 
character assumed. 

If the players be dissatisfied with his directions, they may 
mention the fact to him in private, but during the rehearsal 
they should yield to him implicit obedience. Should he feel 
inclined to act upon their suggestions, he can do so at the 
next rehearsal. It is his duty, likewise, to cast the parts, and 
for this he should use his best judgment and discrimination. 
When the parts are once cast, there must be no demur. 
Nevertheless, should he, after one or more rehearsals, discover 
that he has made a mistake in assigning any of the characters, 
he should rectify it at once. Those who may be changed 
ought not to complain, even if the change should wound their 
vanity a little, since their private feelings must give way to 
the general good. 

Nothing is more disagreeable or difficult for the stage 
manager than the arrangement of the cast. Each person is 
apt to think that he or she is especially fitted to be the hero or 
heroine ; and as it is hard to find a drama made up of heroes 
and heroines, some of the performers are unavoidably doomed 
to disappointment. Those chosen for the minor characters 
should remember that they are as necessary to the proper pro- 
duction of the piece as their histrionic superiors. If a man or 
woman has dramatic talent, it can be shown anywhere, and it 
often happens that one who takes a small part wins more 
laurels than the leading players. 

The performers should not forget that the position of stage 



244 HOME TOPICS. 

manager is as thankless as it is arduous. Upon him rests the 
entire responsibihty ; he receives none of the honors of tri- 
umph, and gets all the blame of failure. 

THE PROMPTER. 

Next to the stage manager, the prompter ranks in impor- 
tance. Sometimes the two offices are combined in the same 
person, but this is not wise, as each has quite enough to do. 
The prompter's position is usually on the left-hand of the 
stage, near the greenroom, where he takes his stand in full 
view of the actors, though unseen by the audience, with the 
text before him. He should be at every rehearsal as well as 
at the regular performance, so as to familiarize the amateurs 
with the sound of his voice and his manner of prompting. 
Learning when, where, and how much to depend on him at 
rehearsal, they will not be at a loss when the trying hour 
comes. 

One thing for the prompter to guard against is hurrying 
the players, who should have ample time not only to speak 
their lines, but to complete their stage business. Any haste 
on the part of the prompter renders the actor nervous; nerv- 
ousness affects the memory and mars the acting. For 
instance, if the player, after repeating a line or two, desires to 
cross the stage before continuing, he should have full leisure to 
do so, instead of having the muttered words hurled at him 
again and again, as if he had forgotten them. Let the 
prompter be sure that the actor's memory has failed before he 
prompts. 

It may be mentioned here that haste is one of the evils to 
which amateurs are exposed. They seem to be afraid that 
they wont advance fast enough, and the result is, they rush 
on at such a rate, as to impair the sympathy of the audience 
and the symmetry of the play. They should always bear in 
mind that the greatest haste is the worst speed; that they not 
only lose nothing but gain much by deliberation and repose. 

It is the province of the prompter to see that the actors 
are called in time to make their entrance on the stage. He 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS. 245 

should, also, have ready anything that they may need as part 
of the business, whether going on or while on the stage. If a 
servant have to carry a letter to his master, the prompter must 
have the letter at hand, and deliver it to the servant at the 
proper moment; and so, if he have occasion to take in a bottle 
of wine, or a newspaper, or a basket of flowers. Should the 
curtain rise upon a dinner or supper table, the prompter must 
have everything to set the table with before the scene begins. 
If swords, guns, or pistols be needed, he must supply them in 
the nick of time. At the regular theaters this devolves upon 
the property man; but at amateur entertainments the prompter 
generally adds the duties of the property man to his own, and 
so simplifies the matter. 

REHEARSALS. 

The success of any dramatic representation will depend 
very largely on rehearsals, which cannot be too often repeated 
or too accurately given. The enthusiasm with which amateurs 
begin is liable to ooze out with the study and hard work that 
their enterprise demands. They make a great mistake who 
imagine that creditable acting of any sort is easily achieved. 
No one can hope to gain a histrionic crown, even in private 
circles, without severe and unremitting labor. Amateur the- 
atricals ill rendered are too dull for pastime and too inane for 
improvement. The actors must, from the start, anticipate 
many vexations and disappointments, and devote themselves 
to earnest effort. They must work not only hard but harmo- 
niously, aiming at a rounded whole rather than at individual 
distinction. They must rehearse with strict conscientiousness, 
and punctuality of attendance must always be observed. They 
must go over their parts again and again, until they be perfect 
in business as well as in text — until, in a word, they are 
entirely accustomed to their character, and to every detail 
thereof 

When practicable, it is better, generally, to rehearse on the 
stage where the play is to be given, so that all sense of 
strangeness shall be removed. At least two dress rehearsals 



246 HOME TOPICS. 

should be given there, and as many more as convenient. At 
these the stage should be set, and everything arranged pre- 
cisely as it is to be at the regular performance. The number 
of rehearsals required will depend on the aptitude of the actors, 
some of whom will evince an order of talent that others must 
hope to approach by severe study alone. It is the privilege 
of the stage manager to call as many rehearsals as he deems 
necessary to insure a successful performance. 

THE STAGE. 

A genuine stage in a public hall is very desirable, for then 
and there the facilities for effective representation will be far 
ampler than in a private house. Many halls have scenes, cur- 
tains, and foot-lights, always difficult to improvise, and in small 
towns still more difficult to get. In New York, and in all 
the large cities, scenery can be bought or hired, — sometimes 
borrowed, — and be forwarded by express without much 
expense. If the unprofessional be obliged to depend on 
themselves, they must choose simple pieces, for nearly all of 
which two scenes will suffice — one that of a wood or outdoor 
scene, and the other an interior, that may be converted at will 
into a library, bed-chamber, dining-hall, or drawing-room. No 
town that would aspire to theatricals can fail to furnish some 
one capable of painting the little that may be needed under 
such circumstances. 

Any piece that is to be presented in a parlor should be 
confined to one scene, and that an interior. The furniture of 
the household can readily be utilized, and the curtain and foot- 
lights can be managed without much trouble. One of the 
hardest things to arrange in a parlor is the exits and the 
entrances, which, in a hall, are usually provided for. French 
windows, closets, and piazzas may be turned to good account 
in private houses, where the ingenuity and invention of women 
invariably reveal unexpected resources. A little book called 
" The Amateur's Guide " contains much valuable and prac- 
tical information, with many details for which we have no 
space. 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS. 24/ 

THE COSTUMES. 

Historic and character dresses can be hired nowadays 
from professional costumers in large cities, who will send them 
to any place or person on receipt of order and the required 
deposit When convenient, it is well for the amateur to select 
personally such garments as he may wish, because by such 
selection he may the better suit his stature, form, and com- 
plexion. Generally it is cheaper for him to patronize costum- 
ers than to devise or have elaborate dresses made, not to speak 
of the likelihood of their greater correctness. The advantage 
of contemporaneous dramas is that the private wardrobes of 
the players will serve every purpose. 

The dresses should not be chosen by each individual, but 
decided upon by a committee of taste, who should see that the 
colors blend properly, that inharmonious hues be not brought 
into juxtaposition, and that anachronisms of raiment be not 
introduced. Such faults are not seldom committed at the 
theaters, though this is no reason why they should be repeated 
by amateurs. Let it be left to professionals to present Norma 
in kid gloves and crinoline, and Claicde Melnotte in the court 
garb of Louis XIV. Ladies portraying noble Venetians of the 
Middle Ages should not appear in French boots, and gentle- 
men wearing perukes should have artistic conscience enough 
to sacrifice side-whiskers. 

Persons far removed from social centers and costumers 
need not despair of mere domestic resources. A little patience, 
reflection, and mother wit will reveal to them undreamed-of 
possibilities ; while necessity will fashion from cast-off gar- 
ments fantastic raiment and sartorial splendors. 



248 HOME TOPICS. 

THE SEA-WEED ALBUM. 

''TT7ELL, children," said Mrs. Bright, one evening at 

V V dinner, '* to-morrow, if all is well, we shall take our 
long-talked-of holiday. Would you like to go inland, up the 
Hudson, or to the sea-side ?" 

" Do go to the sea-side, mamma," said Arthur, an impul- 
sive fellow of eleven ; *' what I want is a bath in the sea." 

*' And so do I," said Clara, a bright girl of ten. 

" Yes, do go to the sea-side, mamma," said Alice, the eldest 
daughter; ** I 'd like to collect sea- weeds. Don't you remem- 
ber, you promised a good while ago to show me how to pre- 
pare them ?" 

''Sea- weeds ! " sneered Arthur ; " how absurd to gather those 
ugly, dry-smelling things ! What fun can there be in that?" 

''Wait till you see," answered Alice, quietly. 

" As all seem agreed on the sea-side, where shall we go ? " 
asked Mrs. Bright. " Long Branch is rather far off for our 
limited time, and even Rockaway ; what do you say to Coney 
Island?" 

" Coney Island, by all means," echoed Clara and Arthur. 

" That will do nicely, mamma," said Alice. 

" Settled," said Mrs. Bright. " I can only spare the after- 
noon. So that after bathing and lunch you can only have an 
hour for beach work. But, as you know, AHce, a great deal 
may be done even in less time, if you work with a will." 

"Who taught you to prepare sea- weeds, mamma ?" asked 
Clara. 

" Your grandma. When you know something of it, there 
is no study so interesting as natural history. But most people, 
and especially children, require to have the book of nature 
opened before they can see its beauties, and have to be 
shown where to look, what to look at, and how to look. And 
so with the study of sea-weeds." 

"Will you teach us ?" said Clara and Arthur together. 

" Certainly," answered Mrs. Bright, who was always 
anxious to impart information, but wished first to create an 



THE SEA-WEED ALBUM. 



249 



interest, and thus make the desire come from the children 
themselves. 

** What will you do with the sea- weeds when you get 
them?" asked Arthur. 

" Make a scrap-book, like your stamp-album. Mamma 
says you can have no idea how pretty a carefully made sea- 
weed album is." 

Next day was one of glee. It was the first and perhaps 
the only excursion of the year. The steamer, lunch, and 
bath were thoroughly enjoyed. 

** Now, children," said Mrs. Bright, "the boat starts home- 
ward in an hour; go and gather your sea- weeds and put them 
into the empty basket." 

Off they ran. But they seemed to have scarcely begun 
when the steamer whistled, and they had just time to get on 
board. After dinner the basket was produced. Arthur and 
Clara had gathered quite a heap, but most of it was old, dried, 
and had to be thrown away. Alice had listened better to her 
mother's advice, and had selected only what was moist and 
fresh. 

"Now," said Mrs. Bright, "put the pieces you have kept 
into a basin of fresh water, to clean them from salt and sand, 
and leave them there while you get some white paper, an old 
linen rag, and some blotting-paper. Also, a soup-plate filled 
with fresh water, and 
camel's-hair 



a small 
brush." 

" All ready, mam- 
ma," said Alice, who 
had prepared them 
the night before. 

" Now, watch me 
closely," said Mrs. 
Bright. " You see, I 
first select a nice piece of weed. Then put it into the soup- 
plate, where it floats. Then I slightly damp a sheet of white 
paper, and slip it under the weed [Figure i], and raise it till the 




PUTTING THE SEA-WEED ON 
THE PAPER. 



250 



HOME TOPICS. 




FIG. 2. ARRANGING THE SEA-WEED. 



latter is half dry. Then, with the brush, I spread it out 
nicely [Figure 2]. My aim is to make a pretty picture. Now, I 
gently raise the paper with the weed on it out of the water, 

and let it drip for a 
second or two. The 
more taste you have, 
and the more care you 
take, the greater will 
be your success." 

" Oh, mamma, how 
pretty!" said Arthur. 

''But I have n't 
finished," said Mrs. 
Bright. " I now put 
the paper and weed 07t a piece of blotting-paper, and over it a 
piece of Hnen rag. Then over that again another sheet of 
blotting-paper" (Figure 3). 

"Why, mamma?" asked Clara. 

*'The blotting-paper dries the weed, but would stick to it 
but for the rag. Now, Alice, do the rest yourself; never 
mind a few failures. Practice is the best teacher." 

" That is fairly done," said Mrs. Bright, when Alice brought 
her first attempt. " Now, put yours on top of mine, and so 
on, till you have finished the whole." 

*' Shall I make 
more than one spec- 
imen of each kind?" 
asked Alice. 

" Yes, you may 
keep several dupli- 
cates, for exchange 
with other collectors. " 

'' Now, mamma," said Alice, after a time, "I have finished. 
Sec what a pile. What shall I do next ?" 

" Put the heap between two boards [Figure 4], and place any 
weight, say a few books, over them; three or four days will 
fully dry them." 



Linen ^at^. 



'm/rn papfT*. 



^r-' 



FIG. 3. 



Bio tUnjpa/^^r-- 
DRYING THE SEA-WEED. 



THE SEA-WEED ALBUM. 25 1 

" We must not forget the sea-weeds," said Arthur, a few 
days after. " Mamma, shall I undo them ?" 

"Yes; but first turn up the edge of one, to see if they are 
quite dry. Then remove the blotting-paper and rag from each 
very gently, so as not to pull the weed off. Most sea-weeds 
are of a gummy nature, and stick to the paper. But the 
harder ones sometimes require a little mucilage or paste to 
keep them in place." 

" How lovely," cried Arthur, as each was uncovered, " and 
what a number of them! Alice, can you spare specimens of 
each for Clara and me ?" 

"Of course I can," said Alice. "But, mamma, please 
show me now how to put them into my album. Here it is." 

" When your specimens are large, you can only put one on 
a page. All you have to do is to touch each corner on the 
back lightly with mu- 
cilage, and put it neatly 
into your book. If they 
are small, you can put 
several, and sometimes 
a good many, on one 
page. With a little 
taste and care you may 

,1 FIG. 4. THE PRESS. 

arrange them very ^ 

prettily. You have already nine different kinds of sea- weeds 
from one place, gathered in half an hour, and including speci- 
mens of each of the three great classes into which they are 
divided, viz.: the red sea-weeds (rhodosperinece) ; the olive- 
colored (inelanospermecs), and the green (chlorospermecB), and 
at every new place you visit you may get new ones." 

" I wonder, mamma," said Alice, " if Cousin Frank, in 
Havana, could get me some?" 

" Why not write and ask him ? Some tropical sea- weeds 
are exceedingly delicate and pretty, especially those found on 
coral islands and reefs. And you might also enlist friends in 
many other parts of the world. Then you have friends near 
the Lakes, and also the Mississippi; for, you must know, there 




252 HOME TOPICS. 

are fresh as well as salt water weeds. And thus in time you 
may have a valuable collection, both of native and foreign sea- 
weeds. " 

''What shall I do with my dupHcates, mamma?" asked 
AHce. 

"Keep them at the end of your album; you may soon 
meet with or hear of other collectors glad to exchange speci- 
mens." 

*' But what are sea- weeds ?" asked Arthur. 

''They are plants which grow in water, just as grass does 
on land, and are usually fixed to the rocks by roots. Those 
you found on the sands had been broken off by the waves. A 
few, however, float about ; for example, the celebrated gulf- 
weed, which has a place in American history. You remember 
that Columbus's small ships, just before he discovered this con- 
tinent, got entangled in the 'Sargasso Sea' of gulf- weed, and 
the men were frightened lest they should not get out of it." 

"Are sea-weeds only found at the edge of the sea, mam- 
ma?" asked Alice. 

"They are most abundant near the sea-shore; but I have 
no doubt that they exist all over the sea-bottom, wherever 
they can get root-hold and a suitable place to live. Like land 
plants, they cannot live everywhere. Deep-sea weeds are gen- 
erally very delicate, rare, and valuable, because difficult to get." 

"Are sea-weeds of any use?" asked Arthur. 

"Certainly. There are various uses for them. Many 
kinds of fish live on them, just as cows and sheep feed on 
grass. In Gothland the great bladder-weed is used to feed 
pigs, and hence called 'swine-tang.' In times of scarcity, even 
horses and cattle thrive on it. Several kinds of sea-weed are 
eaten as a delicacy in north-western Europe. In Ireland, a 
sweetmeat is made of dulse. In Kamschatka, they make a 
fermented drink of sea- weed. In China and Japan, they make 
soup of a swallow's-nest which is constructed of a peculiar 
variety of sea- weed. 

" Again, laver is used as a medicine. Iodine and other 
valuable chemicals are got from sea-weeds. Others make glue 



ILLUMINATING TEXTS. 253 

and varnish. When dried they are used for fuel, and also 
manure. And, no doubt, some kinds of sea-weed found along^ 
our coasts might be often used as an edible vegetable." 

Acting on her mother's advice, AHce wrote to her uncles 
and cousins, and, before long, fine specimens came from most 
of them ; so that, in time, she had a truly beautiful sea- weed 
album, which any of our readers may also have if they live 
near the sea and choose to take a little trouble. 



ILLUMINATING TEXTS. 

THERE are two ways in which texts can be illuminated. 
You can buy a square or oblong of perforated paper at a 
fancy-shop, with the text outlined upon it in pale gray, and, 
with floss and split zephyr worsteds, you can work the letters, 
shade them, and produce very pretty effects. Or you can take 
a bit of bristol-board, measure and sketch your own letters, 
and make them of any beautiful colors you like with a camel's- 
hair brush and water-paints. Some people practice still a 
third method, with oil-paints and a wooden panel ; but this is 
more difficult, and so few of you boys and girls have oil-paints, 
or know how to use them, that it is not worth our while to 
speak further on this method. Neither is it worth while to say 
much about the first way, for however pretty the perforated 
embroidery may look when it is done, and however neat the 
stitches may be, it can never have the freedom or value of a 
text done in the second way ; nor can the doing of it ever give 
the same pleasure. Still, since some of you may like to try it, 
I will add that all the rules for grouping and distributing the 
colors, according to their symbolic meanings, apply to the 
embroidered as well as to the painted illuminations, and it will 
be quite safe to follow them in laying out your work. 



2$4 HOME TOPICS. 

TEXTS PAINTED IN WATER-COLOR. 

The paints absolutely necessar}^ for illuminating purposes 
are four in number : black, white, vermiHon, and cobalt, or 
ultramarine blue. Most paint-boxes contain these four; but 
for any of you who do not happen to have a paint-box, I 
would recommend buying what are called the " half-moist " 
colors, which are the pleasantest and easiest to use. Buy half 
a cake of each of those mentioned, and, besides, lemon yellow, 
carmine, gamboge, Prussian blue, and burnt umber. If you 
want to make your list very complete, you may add sepia, 
sap-green, rose-madder, cadmium, neutral tint, and violet 
carmine ; but these are luxuries, not necessaries, and you can 
do very well without them. Gold and silver paints are, 
however, indispensable. The best are those which come in 
tiny shells or saucers ; but these are also the most costly. A 
good substitute is the preparation known as '' Bessemer's 
Gold." It is a fine dry powder, sold in small bottles, with 
larger bottles of a liquid which dissolves it, the price of the two 
bottles being seventy-five cents. They last a long time, and 
are much cheaper than the little shells, which cost twenty 
cents apiece, and barely hold gold enough for a single capital 
letter. 

The bristol-board should be thick and smooth. A pale 
tint of gray or cream is better in most cases than white. Two 
brushes are needed, a large and a small, besides a third brush 
kept exclusively for the gold paint. For other implements, you 
will want only a lead-pencil and ruler ; but, above all, you want 
that care and patience so indispensable for producing anything 
really fine, delicate, or worth having. There is no royal road 
to anything, remember. All our little successes must be 
earned step by step, slowly and faithfully, with nothing shirked, 
nothing hurried, and we must be willing to give the time 
which is needed to make each step perfect in its way before 
we pass on to another. 

After the materials, the next thing to be considered is the 
design. Pretty i)atterns for letters can be picked up almost 



ILLUMINATING TEXTS. 255 

anywhere — from signs, newspaper headings, book-covers, or 
the ornamental work in churches. A little practice will make 
it easy to vary and combine them. There is a *' Book of 
Alphabets " also, published by Mr. Prang, of Boston, which it 
would not be a bad idea for boys and girls who live near each 
other to club for and buy. Its price is two dollars and a half; 
it contains an alphabet of capitals in color, and of small letters 
in a dozen different styles, ancient and modern, and is a great 
help to young beginners. 

The first step, after trimming the bristol-board to its proper 
size, is to measure the spaces and draw parallel lines, between 
which the letters can be sketched in with lead pencil. Make 
the pencil lines very light, that they may not show through the 
color. Next, paint in all the small letters, being careful to 
keep the edges neat and distinct, to dot the i, and to add the 
commas and period. A mixture of white with the other paints 
makes it much easier to put them in smoothly. This mixture 
is known to artists as "body color." After the small letters 
are finished and shaded, paint the capitals in the same way ; 
and, last of all, add the gold and the ornamental touches, the 
flowers, vines, arabesques, and little hints of contrast, which 
add so much to the richness of the effect. I cannot tell you 
what colors to use, or what designs, for these depend on your 
own taste and fancy, and every worker must make them out 
for himself. But if you begin with simple things, — with a 
single line, for instance, — a line which says something brave, or 
sweet, or comforting (the Bible is full of such lines), painting it 
in plain gray letters, shaded on one edge with black, and one 
vivid capital in scarlet, or blue and gold, you will have done a 
valuable and delightful thing ; and going on little by little, 
your powers will increase, till by and by you produce work 
which is beautiful for its own sake as well as for that of the 
thought which it enshrines. 

I will add a list of rules for the choice and placing of the 
colors. Every color has a meaning — did you know that ? — 
and there are certain words which must always be painted in 
certain colors, and no other. 



256 HOME TOPICS. 

GENERAL RULES FOR COLORING. 

Rule I. Capitals and initials should always be of a different 
color, or ornamented differently, from other letters of the text. 

Rule 2. Letters belonging to words which do not begin 
with a capital must all be of one color. 

Rule 3. It is not necessary that all the letters should be 
shaded, but the shaded letters in the same sentence should be 
shaded on the same side. Black or dark-brown shading makes 
a red letter appear more brilliant. If one letter in a sentence 
is lightened with gold or bright color, the other letters must be 
lightened to correspond. 

Rule 4. Never paint an unimportant word in a striking 
color. 

Rule 5. Sacred names, such as Christ, God, Lord, Saviour, 
Creator, should always be painted in red, black, and gold. 
The letters I. H. S. should also be in red, black, and gold, 
and all personal pronouns referring to Deity, such as Him, 
His, Thy, Thine, must be in the same colors, which are called 
canonical. 

Rule 6. Do not use these colors combined except in words 
denoting the Deity, or pronouns referring to Him. Ever since 
the first gospel was illuminated this rule has been observed ; 
red being used to signify love, and sometimes also creative 
power; gold, to signify glory; and black, awe or majesty. If 
you notice, you will find these colors constantly used in the 
decoration of churches. 

Rule 7. It is not desirable to use gold and silver in the 
same word. Never put a blue letter next to a purple or green 
one. Gold harmonizes with all colors. 

MEANINGS OF COLORS. 

Various nations hold traditions about the meanings of col- 
ors. Even our North American Indians have ideas upon this 
subject, and, strangely enough, these traditions agree in the 
main all the world over. These are some of them : 



ILLUMINATING TEXTS. 257 

Red is the color of life and happiness. It is from this idea 
that the expression ** red-letter days" comes. 

Blue is the color of heaven, and should be used for words 
which denote heavenly things, such as piety, truth, constancy, 
divine contemplation. 

Yellow or gold means not only glory, but faith, goodness, 
marriage. 

Green symbolizes spring, youth, mirth, hope in immortal- 
ity ; also victory, as in the palm and laurel, which are emblems 
of a conqueror. 

Violet means suffering. 

Gray, the color of ashes, means humility, mourning, and 
penitence. 

Purple was the color of pomp and royal state. Kings and 
emperors allowed this color to be used in churches, otherwise 
it would have been sacred to imperial use. In former days, 
princes, even in their cradles, wore this color, hence the 
phrase, *' Born in the purple." 

White denotes innocence, light, faith, joy, religious purity. 
Sometimes silver is employed in place of white. 

Black typifies night, darkness, death, sin, mourning, and 
negation. It is proper to use black in such words as no, never, 
not, nevermore. 

You understand that I do not prescribe these colors to be 
used always exactly after these rules ; but it is well to know 
the rules, and, as they may be helpful to some of you, I give 
them. The best rule is taste, and that is a thing that grows by 
using. So don't be discouraged, any of you, if you chance 
not to succeed the first time, but remember Robert Bruce and 
the spider, and "Try, try again." 



17 



PART V. SICKNESS AND HEALTH. 



A PARABLE. 



ONCE there was born a man with a great genius for paint- 
ing and sculpture. It was not in this world that he was 
born, but in a world very much like this in some respects, and 
very different in others. The world in which this great genius 
was born was governed by a beneficent and wise ruler, who 
had such wisdom and such power that he decided before each 
being was born for what purpose he would be best fitted in 
life ; he then put him in the place best suited to the work he 
was to do ; and he gave into his hands a set of instruments to 
do the work with. 

There was one peculiarity about these instruments — they 
could never be replaced. On this point this great and wise 
ruler was inexorable. He said to every being who was born 
into his realm : 

" Here is your set of instruments to work with. If you take 
good care of them they will last a life-time. If you let them 
get rusty or broken, you can perhaps have them brightened up 
a little or mended, but they will never be as good as new, and 
you can never have another set. Now you see how important 
it is that you keep them always in good order." 



A PARABLE. 259 

This man of whom I speak had a complete set of all the 
tools necessary for a sculptor's work, and also a complete set 
of painter's brushes and colors. He was a wonderful man, for 
he could make very beautiful statues, and he could also paint 
very beautiful pictures. He became famous while he was very 
young, and everybody wanted something that he had carved 
or painted. 

Now, I do not know whether it was that he did not 
believe what the good ruler told him about his set of instru- 
ments, or whether he did not care to keep on working any 
longer, but this is what happened. He grew very careless 
about his brushes, and let his tools lie out over-night when it 
was damp. He left some of his brushes full of paint for weeks, 
and the paint dried in, so that when at last he tried to wash it 
out, out came the bristles by dozens, and the brushes were 
entirely ruined. The dampness of the night air rusted the 
edges of some of his very finest tools, and the things which he 
had to use to clean off the rust were so powerful that they ate 
into the fine metal of the tools, and left the edges so uneven 
that they would no longer make fine strokes. 

However, he kept on painting, and making statues, and 
doing the best he could with the few and imperfect tools he 
had left. But people began to say, ** What is the matter with 
this man's pictures ? and what is the matter with his statues ? 
He does not do half as good work as he used to." 

Then he was very angry, and said the people were only 
envious and malicious; that he was the same he always had 
been, and his pictures and statues were as good as ever. But he 
could not make anybody else think so. They all knew better. 

One day, the ruler sent for him and said to him : 

" Now you have reached the prime of your life. It is time 
that you should do some really great work. I want a grand 
statue made for the gate-way of one of my cities. Here is the 
design; take it home and study it, and see if you can under- 
take to execute it." 

As soon as the poor sculptor studied the design, his heart 
sank within him. There were several parts of it which 



260 HOME TOPICS. 

required the finest workmanship of one of his most dehcate 
instruments. That instrument was entirely ruined by rust. 
The edge was all eaten away into notches. In vain he tried 
all possible devices to bring it again to a fine sharp edge. 
Nothing could be done with it. The most experienced work- 
men shook their heads as soon as they saw it, and said: 

"No, no, sir; it is too late. If you had brought it to us 
at first, we might possibly have made it sharp enough for 
you to use a little while with great care ; but it is past help 
now." 

Then he ran frantically around the country, trying to bor- 
row a similar instrument from some one. But one of the most 
remarkable peculiarities about these sets of instruments given 
by the ruler of this world I am speaking of, was that they were 
of no use at all in the hands of anybody except the one to 
whom the ruler had given them. Several of the sculptor's 
friends were so sorry for him that they offered him their 
instruments in place of his own ; but he tried in vain to use 
them. They were not fitted to his hand ; he could not make 
the kind of stroke he wanted to make with them. So he went 
sadly back to the ruler, and said : 

" O Sire, I am most unhappy. I cannot execute this 
beautiful design for your statue." 

** But why cannot you execute it?" said the ruler. 

'* Alas, Sire ! " replied the unfortunate man, '' by some sad 
accident one of my finest tools was so rusted that it cannot be 
restored. Without that tool it is impossible to make this 
statue." 

Then the ruler looked very severely at him, and said: 

*' O sculptor, accidents very seldom happen to the wise 
and careful. But you are also a painter, I believe. Perhaps 
you can paint the picture I wish to have painted immediately, 
for my new palace. . Here is the drawing of it. Go home and 
study this. This also will be an opportunity worthy of your 
genius." 

The poor fellow was not much comforted by this, for he 
remembered that he had not even looked at his brushes for a 



A PARABLE. 261 

long time. However, he took the sketch, thanked the ruler, 
and withdrew. 

It proved to be the same with the sketch for the picture as 
it had been with the design for the statue. It required the 
finest workmanship in parts of it; and the brushes which were 
needed for this had been long ago destroyed. Only their 
handles remained. How did the painter regret his folly as he 
picked up the old defaced handles from the floor, and looked 
at them hopelessly ! 

Again he went to the ruler, and, with still greater embar- 
rassment than before, acknowledged that he was unable to 
paint the picture because he had not the proper brushes. 

This time the ruler looked at him with terrible severity, 
and spoke in a voice of the sternest displeasure : 

" What, then, do you expect to do, sir, for the rest of 
your life, if your instruments are in such a condition?" 

"Alas! Sire, I do not know," replied the poor man, cov- 
ered with confusion. 

"You deserve to starve," said the ruler; and ordered the 
servants to show him out of the palace. 

After this, matters went from bad to worse with the painter. 
Every few days some one of his instruments broke under his 
hand. They had been so poorly taken care of, that they did 
not last half as long as they were meant to. His work grew 
poorer and poorer, until he fell so low that he was forced to 
eke out a miserable living by painting the walls of the com- 
monest houses, and making the coarsest kind of water-jars out 
of clay. Finally his last instrument failed him. He had 
nothing left to work with; and as he had for many years done 
only very coarse and cheap work, and had not been able to 
lay up any money, he was driven to beg his food from door 
to door, and finally died of hunger. 

This is the end of the parable. Next comes the moral. 
Now please don't skip all the rest because it is called moral. It 
will not be very long. I wish I had called my story a conun- 
drum instead of a parable, and then the moral would have 
been the answer. How that would have puzzled you all, — a 



262 HOME TOPICS. 

conundrum so many pages long ! And I wonder how many 
of you would have guessed the true answer. How many of 
you would have thought enough about your own bodies to 
have seen that they were only sets of instruments given to you 
to work with ? The parable is a truer one than you think at 
first ; but the longer you think the more you will see how true 
it is. Are we not each of us born into the world provided 
with one body, and only one, which must last us as long as we 
live in this world ? Is it not by means of this body that we 
all learn and accomplish everything ? Is it not a most won- 
derful and beautiful set of instruments ? Can we ever replace 
any one of them ? Can we ever have any one of them made 
as good as new, after it has once been seriously out of order ? 
In one respect the parable is not a true one ; for the parable 
tells a story of a man whose set of instruments was adapted to 
only two uses, — to sculpture and to painting. But it would 
not be easy to count up all the things which human beings can 
do by help of the wonderful bodies in which they live. Think 
for a moment of all the things you do in any one day ; all the 
breathing, eating, drinking, and running ; of all the thinking, 
speaking, feeling, learning you do in any one day. Now, if 
any one of the instruments is seriously out of order, you can- 
not do one of these things so well as you know how to do it 
When any one of the instruments is very seriously out of order, 
there is always pain. If the pain is severe, you can't think of 
anything else while it lasts. All your other instruments are of 
no use to you, just because of the pain in that one which is out 
of order. If the pain and the disordered condition last a great 
while, the instrument is so injured that it is never again so 
strong as it was in the beginning. All the doctors in the 
world cannot make it so. Then you begin to be what people 
call an invalid ; that is, a person who does not have the full use 
of any one part of his body ; who is never exactly comfortable 
himself, and who is likely to make everybody about him more 
or less uncomfortable. 

I do not know anything in this world half so strange as the 
way in which people neglect their bodies ; that is, their set of 



A PARABLE. 265 

instruments — their one set of instruments which they can 
never replace, and can do very Httle toward mending. When 
it is too late, when the instruments are hopelessly out of order, 
then they do not neglect them any longer ; then they run 
about frantically, as the poor sculptor did, trying to find some 
one to help him ; and this is one of the saddest sights in the 
world — a man or a woman running from one climate to another 
climate, and from one doctor to another doctor, trying to cure 
or to patch up a body that is out of order. 

Now, perhaps you will say this is a dismal and unnecessary 
sermon to preach to young people ; they have their fathers and 
mothers to take care of them ; they don't take care of themselves. 
Very true ; but fathers and mothers cannot be always with their 
children; fathers and mothers cannot always make their children 
remember and obey their directions ; more than all, it is very hard 
to make children realize that it is of any great importance that 
they should keep all the laws of health. I know when I was a 
little girl, when people said to me, *' You must not do thus and 
thus; for if you do you will take cold," I used to think, 
** Who cares for a little cold ? Supposing I do catch one ? " 
And when I was shut up in the house for several days with a 
bad sore throat, and suffered horrible pain, I never reproached 
myself I thought that sore throats must come now and then, 
whether or no, and that I must take my turn. But now I have 
learned that if no law of health were ever broken, we need 
never have a day's illness, — might grow old in entire freedom 
from suffering, and gradually fall asleep at last, instead of 
dying terrible deaths from disease, — and I am all the while 
wishing I had known it when I was young. If I had known 
it, I '11 tell you just what I should have done. I would have 
just tried the experiment, at any rate, of never doing a single 
thing which could by any possibility get any one of the instru- 
ments of my body out of order. I wish I could see some boy 
or girl try it yet : never to sit up late at night ; never to have 
a close, bad air in the room ; never to sit with wet feet ; never 
to wet them, if it were possible to help it ; never to go out in 
cold weather without being properly wrapped up ; never to go 



264 HOME TOPICS. 

out of a hot room into a cold outdoor air without throwing 
some extra wrap on ; never to eat or drink an unwholesome 
thing; never to touch tea, or coffee, or candy, or pie-crust; 
never to let a day pass without at least two good hours of 
exercise in the open air ; never to read a word by twilight, nor 
in the cars ; never to let the sun be shut out of rooms. This 
is a pretty long list of " nevers," but *' never " is the only word 
that conquers. ** Once in a while " is the very watch-word of 
temptation and defeat. I do beheve that the " once in a 
while" things have ruined more bodies — and more souls, too 
— than all the other things put together. Moreover, the 
"never" way is'easy, and the "once in a while" way is hard. 
After you have once made up your mind "never" to do a 
certain thing, that is the end of it, if you are a sensible person. 
But if you only say, "This is a bad habit," or, "This is a dan- 
gerous indulgence ; I will be a little on my guard and not do 
it too often," you have put yourself in the most uncomfortable 
of all positions ; the temptation will knock at your door twenty 
times a day, and you will have to be fighting the same old 
battle over and over again as long as you live. This is 
especially true in regard to the matter of which I have been 
speaking to you — the care of the body. When you have 
once laid down to yourself the laws you mean to keep, the 
things you will always do, and the things you will " never " 
do, then your life arranges itself in a system at once, and you 
are not interrupted and hindered, as the undecided people are, 
by wondering what is best, or safe, or wholesome, or too 
unwholesome, at different times. 

Don't think it would be a sort of slavery to give up so 
much for the sake of keeping your body in order. It is the 
only real freedom, though at first it does not look so much like 
freedom as the other way. It is the sort of freedom of which 
some poet sang once. I never knew who he was. I heard the 
lines only once, and have forgotten all except the last three, 
but I think of those every day. He was speaking of the true 
freedom which there is in keeping the laws of nature, and he 
said it was like the freedom of the true poet, who 




ONE OF THE GIRLS. 



NERVES IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 265 

"Always sings 
In strictest bonds of rhyme and rule, 
And finds in them not bonds, but wings." 

I think the difiference between a person who has kept all 
the laws of health, and thereby has a good, strong, sound 
body that can carry him wherever he wants to go, and do 
whatever he wants to do, and a person who has let his body 
get all out of order, so that he has to lie in bed half his time 
and suffer, is quite as great a difference as there is between a 
creature with wings and a creature without wings. Don't you ? 

And this is the end of the moral. 



NERVES IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 

THERE is hardly an American family in which some mem- 
ber is not a victim to some sort of nervous disease — 
neuralgia, hysteria, the extreme of epilepsy, or the mild form 
of constant ''tire." Women, oftener young than old, are 
frequently mere bundles of nerves; thin and bloodless, living 
on morphine and valerian, known only in their homes or social 
lives by their sufferings, which are real enough to carry them 
to the edge of the grave, if too vague for any ordinary medi- 
cine to touch. An eminent physician has hit upon a system 
of treatment for this class of invalids, which is said to be 
successful. He removes them from home, changes the whole 
material and moral atmosphere about them, puts them to bed, 
and forbids them to move hand or foot. They are overfed 
five times a day. The lack of exercise is supplied by knead- 
ing the entire body, and by electricity. The patient goes to 
bed a skeleton, and comes out, it is said, fat and rosy. The 
secret in this treatment is absolute rest, and the reduction of 
the patient to the condition of a mere animal. 

If this principle be correct, there is no reason why every 
mother should not apply it in the treatment of her nervous 



266 HOME TOPICS. 

patient (for she is sure to have one). Her husband is over- 
worked in the office or shop; he grows thinner, more irritable; 
every month his appetite fails; he cannot sleep, complains of 
dull vacuity at the base of the brain, of a stricture like an iron 
band about his jaws. There is no time to lose. If possible, 
lift the weight a little. Adopt a cheaper, simpler style of 
living, let the floors go uncarpeted, or take out the money 
in the savings-bank. There will come no rainier day than 
this. Give him a month's absolute holiday free from worry 
and work, feed him well, amuse him. Let this holiday be 
taken in the country, or somewhere on the water, out of sight 
or hearing of his daily work and cares. Nine chances out 
of ten, he will come back a new man. 

Or it is one of the boys who is pale, who has constant 
headaches, whose face jerks strangely in the spring, who has 
moody fancies, complains of injustice, has doubts of the Bible. 
It is the boy who is head of his class, too. The lad does not 
need moral discipline, or appeals to his feelings or his faith. 
Take him from school, and from home; turn him into a farm 
for a year. He will learn some things there as useful in his 
future life as Greek or geometry. Make him bathe regularly, 
eat heartily, drink milk and beef-tea, sleep early at night and 
late in the morning. It is not the mind but the machine that 
needs repairing. 

Or it is the mother's own arm or head that tortures her 
with neuralgia. At any cost, give the suffering part heat and 
absolute rest; wrap it in cotton and flannels to exclude the air. 
Let the arm stop its working and the brain its thinking. 

In short, the home treatment of all nervous disorders 
should be based on three words : change, warmth, and rest. 



BETTER THAN MEDICINE. 26/ 

BETTER THAN MEDICINE. 

THERE is a sort of practical every-day knowledge in which 
our grandmothers were wise, which the present genera- 
tion of mothers, with all their advance in the sciences, in the 
arts, and in matters of taste, are apt to neglect. The doctor, 
for example, is now a most costly member of every well-to-do 
family, called in for every ache or qualm. If he be of the 
advanced school and have faith in patience, nature, and 
" letting-alone," no harm is done ; but many a practitioner 
feels that he must earn his money by a certain amount of 
drugs. The mother soon becomes famihar with his favorite 
remedy. If the children have eaten too much candy, and need 
a day's fasting, or a long walk in the open air, she fires pills of 
quinine, or pellets of arnica, belladonna, or arsenic, wildly down 
their throats, or plumps them into "sitzes" and "packs," or 
puts the poles of the galvanic battery to their trembling backs, 
heads, or throats. This modern Cornelia brings up her young 
Gracchi by the heroic treatment alone. She scouts simple, 
easy preventives and commonplace bits of knowledge. She 
goes to art classes, in order to fit her to criticise the human 
body ; but she knows nothing of the anatomy of her baby's 
foot, and mangles and deforms it in heeled shoes. She knows 
precisely what chemical elements enter into every object in 
nature, and looks back with compassion on the generation who 
never heard of molecules. But she feeds her family on bread, 
pickles, confectionery, and pastry, bought at the nearest shop, 
all more or less poisonous with copper, alum, and mineral dyes. 
Her old grandmother, a veritable ignoramus in her eyes, fed 
her children on home-made food ; the fame of her pies and 
roasts went abroad through the country, and her boys' stout 
limbs and the rosy cheeks of her girls bore witness to their 
merits. 

Little Mrs. Dodd, whose matter-of-fact method of teaching 
her boys we have spoken of before, believes that the chief 
requisite in a housekeeper, or head of a family, is this practi- 
cal knowledge. *' Look," she says, " how every paper and 



268 HOME TOPICS. 

magazine recognizes this lack in women, and tries to supply it 
with recipes for cookery, simple remedies, popular adaptations 
of scientific knowledge to every-day life." She keeps her eyes 
and ears open for such suggestions, but tests them thoroughly 
before using them in her family. She knows the physical 
requirements and peculiarities of husband, children, and 
servants, and wards off indigestion here, neuralgia there, 
rheumatism from one, nervous debility from another, by a 
change of diet, or clothing, or temperature, a little wholesome 
hard work, or a holiday and adventure into the country or to 
the city. She knows just what to do before the doctor comes, 
in case of a burn, or fall, or sprain ; and just when to stop doing, 
which is a rarer knowledge. All these things are trifles, people 
may say. But Mrs. Dodd is always quoting old Ben Frank- 
lin's maxim, that human happiness consists not in great pieces 
of good fortune that rarely happen, but in the little comforts 
and advantages of every day. 



HINTS ON THE USE AND CARE OF 
THE EYES. 

CONSIDERING the extreme delicacy of the visual appar- 
atus, it is astonishing what an amount of hard usage it 
will bear when in a perfectly healthy and normal condition. 
On the contrary, let the nice adaptability of the different parts 
of the complex mechanism become in any manner deranged, 
and it is equally astonishing how 

'' Small things may be boisterous there." 

In this particular it is like a piece of finely adjusted 
machinery. So long as the equilibrium of forces is main- 
tained, the machine may run for an indefinite length of time, 
with no detriment to its component parts. But let a pinion 



HINTS ON THE USE AND CARE OF THE EYES. 269 

become loose or a cog break, and soon of its own inherent 
power the apparatus tears itself to pieces. 

Those whose eyes are in a condition of perfect health will 
fail to understand adequately the stress laid upon apparently 
trivial matters in the succeeding remarks. But those who 
have suffered from any defect or weakness of the eyes will 
comprehend at once the great importance of the seemingly 
most insignificant point mentioned. The former class of indi- 
viduals, however, should have quite as much interest in the 
matter as the latter, for the old proverb that " one ounce of 
prevention is worth a pound of cure " can find no fitter appli- 
cation than in the care of the eyes. 

It is hardly necessary to state that the natural stimulus of 
the organ of vision, and consequently the one best adapted for 
illuminating purposes, is daylight. Still, this natural stimulus 
may, on occasion, be so intense as to require toning down. No 
one who has traversed the streets of the lower Italian cities on 
a clear day, during the summer or autumn months, can have 
failed to notice how trying the bright glare is to the eyes. 
The brilliancy of the cloudless sky, united to the brightness of 
the reflection from the white stones and dust of the streets, is 
quite unbearable by the strongest eyes, and in those unac- 
customed to these conditions, especially if there is an inherent 
weakness of the eyes, the result generally is some degree of 
inflammation. The same is true of traveling over the snow in 
a sunshiny day. It is always best to use, during the exposure 
to such intense light, what are called ''protective spectacles." 
These are simply spectacles of plane glasses, z. e., glasses 
which are not curved so as to refract the light from its course, 
tinted either in blue or gray. I presume the advocates of the 
''blue-glass cure" would ascribe other virtues to the blue 
spectacles than that of merely modulating the light. That is 
a subject which I do not propose to discuss here, but will 
simply state that blue glass has been recommended because 
the blue rays of light have been considered as having a less 
irritable effect upon the retina than the rays of other colors,^ 
and experience seems to support the view. Some, however^ 



270 HOME TOPICS. 

contend that we should modulate all the colors in equal pro- 
portion, and employ for that purpose the "smoked" or gray 
glass. My own observation would seem to show that there is 
an individual difference as to choice between the blue and the 
gray tint. Some persons feel more comfortable with the blue, 
others with the gray, glass, and as the comfort of the indi- 
vidual is the end in view, we should lay no great stress upon 
scientific theories in regard to the matter. By all means let 
that be chosen which gives the greater reUef It is to be 
remarked, however, that green glasses seldom give the ease 
that either the gray or blue do, — there is a quantity of yellow 
in the green light, and of all colors yellow is the most trying 
to the eyes. 

The dissatisfaction with some varieties of smoked glass no 
doubt arises from the yellow light, which an inferior quality 
allows to pass through. 

But, unfortunately, we cannot command daylight at all 
times when we wish to use the eyes for the business or pleas- 
ures of life. Our civilization demands that we turn a portion 
of night into day, and artificial means must be found for the 
purpose of illumination. 

There are, perhaps, more individuals who ascribe their 
weakness of sight to a use of their eyes under an insufficient 
artificial illumination than to any other one cause. In a great 
many instances this may not be strictly true, but there 
can be no doubt that faulty artificial light is one of the 
most productive causes of a certain class of injuries to which 
the eye can be exposed. The two sources of trouble with the 
ordinary artificial lights are — first, that they are not pure 
white, and, secondly, that they are unsteady. The first defect is 
found in all artificial lights except the lime, electric, and mag- 
nesium lights ; the second especially in candles and gas. The 
yellowness is, in a measure, counteracted by using, in the case 
of lamps and gas, chimneys of a violet or blue tint, and the 
flickering of the gas may be obviated largely by employing an 
Argand burner. All things considered, a German student- 
lamp furnishes the most satisfactory light. The next best is 



HINTS ON THE USE AND CARE OF THE EYES. 2J\ 

gas with an Argand burner. The chimneys of both may, as 
above suggested, be advantageously of a light-blue tint. 

The position of the light in relation to the body is of great 
importance. If a shade is used on the lamp or burner (it 
should, by preference, be of ground or " milk " glass, never of 
colored glass), the light may stand directly in front of the body 
and the work be allowed to lie in the light under the shade, 
which will protect the eyes from the glare of the flame. If no 
shade is used, the back should be turned to the source of light, 
which ought to fall over the left shoulder. The same rule 
applies in the management of daylight. In this case, the light 
should come from behind and slightly above, and fall directly 
on the work, whence it is reflected to the eye. It should never 
fall directly in the face. 

The light in the room during sleep is also not without its 
influence. As a rule, the room during sleeping hours should 
be dark ; and, in particular, care should be taken to avoid 
sleeping opposite a window where, on opening the eyes in the 
morning, a flood of strong light will fall on them. Even the 
strongest eyes are, after the repose of the night, more or less 
sensitive to the impression of intense hght. The eyes must 
have time to accustom themselves to the stimulus. 

Attention should be called to the injurious effects that 
sometimes follow reading in railroad cars. On account of the 
unsteadiness of the page, reading under these circumstances is 
exceedingly trying to the eyes, and should never be persisted 
in for any considerable length of time. 

During convalescence from severe illness, the eyes are gen- 
erally the last to regain their lost power. Especially is this the 
case with women after child-birth, and too much care cannot be 
taken to put as little strain up^n the eyes as possible at this time. 

There is nothing more refreshing to the tired eyes than a 
judicious bathing in cold water. When, after use, the eyes 
feel hot and uncomfortable, are slightly red and have a feeling 
of fatigue, a few handfuls of cold water will sometimes act like 
magic. The habit which some have of immersing the face in 
a basin of water and opening the eyes, so as to allow the water 



2/2 HOME TOPICS. 

to come in direct contact with the ball, does not answer the 
purpose; in fact, it frequently gives rise to very uncomfortable 
symptoms caused by a swelling of the epithelial covering of the 
eye. The proper mode is to take a large basin of cold water, 
and bending the head close over it, with both hands to throw 
the water with some force on the lids gently closed. This has 
something of the same effect as a shower-bath, and has a 
toning- up influence which water applied in any other way has 
not. Another method of accomplishing the same end is by 
means of a spray-producer or atomizer, such as ladies 
frequently use at their toilet. In this case, a little spirits of 
any kind, or bay rum, added to the water of the atomizer, will 
increase somewhat the good effect. 

Perhaps this is as appropriate a place as any to warn our 
readers against the so-called ''eye-cups" which are exten- 
sively advertised. They are recommended as ''giving strength 
to the eye," "preserving the sight," and obviating the neces- 
sity of glasses by removing the "flattening" of the eye from 
age. Irremediable mischief is liable to be done by this 
apparatus. It is simply a cup, fitting air-tight around the eye- 
socket, and to which is attached a hollow rubber ball similar 
to that of an atomizer. When the cup is applied to the 
socket and the ball is squeezed, the air is expelled from around 
the eyeball, and when the ball again assumes its shape, an 
undue quantity of blood is drawn into the eye and surround- 
ing parts because of the relief of a portion of the atmospheric 
pressure. As a result, it is true, the eye does become fuller, 
and in some instances it may have the effect to enable the 
individual to see somewhat better objects near at hand, but 
always with a sacrifice of good distant vision. 

The positive harm caused b^ these eye-cups comes from 
the congestion of the eye which they inevitably bring about. 
It is impossible for this congestion of the delicate tissues 
which enter into the structure of the eye to be continued for 
any length of time without inducing disease, and that char- 
acter of disease, too, which is, in a large number of cases, 
outside the pale of our remedial measures. 



HINTS ON THE USE AND CARE OF THE EYES. 2/3 

It may also not be out of place to say a word here in 
regard to the influence of tobacco on vision. As this is a ques- 
tion which is still sub judice in the profession, we are not 
warranted in making any positive utterances. The English 
ophthalmic surgeons believe strongly in the " tobacco amauro- 
sis," and we have seen in the English hospitals cases of wast- 
ing of the optic nerve which could hardly be referred to any 
other cause than excessive smoking. In America and in 
France, we have rarely, indeed, met with them. In fact, many 
good surgeons in America are in doubt as to the existence of 
a genuine ''tobacco amaurosis." Granting, however, that the 
English cases are real, I can only account for the scarcity of 
the affection elsewhere in one of two ways : first, by the dif- 
ference in the character of the tobacco ; second, by the influ- 
ence of race. Those in England who are affected belong 
almost without exception to the lower classes, are, as a rule, 
drinkers as well as smokers, and smoke large quantities of the 
strongest tobacco manufactured, generally that known as 
'*shag." It is a curious fact worthy of mention that those 
who chew are seldom, if ever, affected from this cause. The 
average American, we feel safe in saying, may use tobacco (of 
native growth) in moderation, with but little danger of detri- 
ment to his eyes. But it must also be remarked that what is 
moderation in one may amount to excess in another, and each 
one should find what is the hmit of moderation in his individ- 
ual case, and keep within it. 

The attention of the profession is being more and more 
directed to the proper correction of faulty optical conditions of 
the eyes in childhood as a means of avoiding some of the act- 
ual deformities and diseases to which they are liable to lead in 
later life. It is not so generally known as it should be that 
squint or ''cross eyes" is nearly always dependent upon a 
faulty construction of the ball, which is remediable by means 
of properly adapted glasses. Professor Bonders, of Utrecht, 
Holland, has incurred the gratitude of thousands who, by this 
discovery, have been enabled to preserve their eyes straight 
and use them with comfort without having to undergo the ter- 
i8 



274 HOME TOPICS. 

rors of an operation. As, however, this application of glasses, 
in order to be thoroughly effective, must be made very early 
in life, some observations as to the signs and symptoms which 
point to such conditions are eminently appropriate here. 

In the first place, it must be remarked that there are two 
kinds of squint — the inward and the outward, which depend, 
with rare exceptions, on two opposite optical defects. The 
inward squint is associated, in by far the greater majority 
of cases, with far-sightedness, the outward with short- 
sightedness. 

Let us consider the inward form first. It may be observed, 
in passing, that many of the commonly accepted theories 
regarding the causation of this variety, as well as of the outward 
form, are without any foundation in fact You hear frequently 
of children who, it is presumed, have acquired a squint by 
imitation from playmates who are thus affected. The absurdity 
of this is apparent at once when we reflect that any act to be 
imitated must be voluntary and under the command of the will. 
Any reader can convince himself that the act of squinting is not 
voluntary by attempting to produce it at will. You hear of 
others who, when quite young, kept their hair down over their 
eyes, and, in peering out from under it, acquired a "cast"; 
and there are various other ways in which the anomaly is sup- 
posed or believed to be produced. None of these circumstances 
have any influence in producing the deviation of the eyes. All 
those cases of inward *' cast," with only here and there an 
exception, when examined will be found to be far-sighted. 
When, therefore, at however early an age, the child is observed 
to have a periodical " cast," it should forthwith be taken to a 
competent oculist for an examination as to far-sightedness. 
And if we could, in every case, as soon as the fact of far- 
sightedness is established, adapt to the eyes the glasses that 
completely correct the fault, and put them on a par vvith chil- 
dren with perfectly normal eyes, it would not be asserting too 
much to say that we should seldom have to resort to the opera- 
tion of dividing the tendon of the internal straight muscle of 
the eye, which is the only cure for a confirmed squint. But 



HINTS ON THE USE AND CARE OF THE EYES. 2/5 

unfortunately we cannot, in the majority of cases, do this. 
Even in children of eight and ten years there is often great 
difficulty in having the glasses constantly worn. They are 
thoughtless and careless, and in play the glasses get knocked 
off and become broken ; and frequently the somewhat odd 
appearance of a child in spectacles makes it the subject of jest, 
and the glasses are purposely laid aside as soon as it is away 
from the eye of the parents or guardians. In all cases, how- 
ever, the effort should be made. 

The symptoms which attend far-sightedness are distinct 
and marked. After a more or less prolonged use of the eyes, 
particularly by bad or artificial light, there is a complaint of 
pain, — not so much in the eyes as around them, and espe- 
cially across the forehead. If the use of the eyes is still per- 
sisted in, the letters become so blurred and indistinct that the 
book must be laid aside. After a few moments' rest it can be 
resumed, but with ultimately the same result. It is most fre- 
quently at this time of fatigue that we see the first tendency 
to squint. If one eye is allowed to turn inward, the strain is 
somewhat relieved, and the work can be proceeded with in a 
measure of comfort. It is wonderful what a complete relief 
to all these unpleasant symptoms the application of proper 
glasses brings. It is a law, from which there should be no 
variation, that a far-sighted child should never be allowed to 
use its eyes for near work without its glasses. 

Outward squint, or more frequently the tendency to out- 
ward squint associated with a weakness of the internal straight 
muscles, is, in a large proportion of cases, connected with 
short-sightedness. This connection is not so common, per- 
haps, as the connection of inward squint with far-sightedness, 
but it is so generally the case that when an outward ''cast" is 
observed the eyes should be examined with reference to short- 
sightedness and the relative power of the different muscles 
which move the eyes. 

A weakness of one set of muscles (most frequently the 
straight muscles that move the eyes inward) is the cause of a 
great number of cases of painful vision, and, being in a large 



276 HOME TOPICS. 

proportion of instances associated with, and dependent upon, 
the short-sighted condition of the eyes, is remediable by- 
means of properly fitted concave glasses, associated some- 
times with prisms. It is evident, then, how important it is to 
have the eyes examined upon the first appearance of symp- 
toms pointing to this condition. 

The symptoms that characterize this weakness have some- 
thing of the same nature as those which are present in far- 
sightedness. The principal features in both are pain and 
confusion of sight. The pain in the former, however, differs 
from that in far-sightedness in the fact that it is felt more in 
the eye itself, though it may radiate from it to the surround- 
ing parts ; and the confusion of sight consists not so much in a 
blurring of the object as an overlapping of two images. This 
latter feature may attain such a degree as actually to cause 
double vision. When this is the case, it is impossible to use 
the two eyes at once and have satisfactory vision, so the one 
eye is allowed to deviate far outward, so as not to participate 
in ''direct" vision at all, and the work is carried on with the 
other eye alone. 

But the most important question in connection with short- 
sightedness is that of its progressive increase under improper 
use of the eyes, and of its production in healthy eyes under 
certain unfavorable surroundings. The notice of the profes- 
sion has been called to these points only within compara- 
tively recent years, and a knowledge of the facts that have 
thus far been accumulated should have a wider dissemina- 
tion than can be obtained through the purely scientific and 
professional journals, since it is a matter holding an important 
interest for our educators, and all those having the care and 
training of children. For this reason we shall give the subject 
a consideration somewhat in detail. 

Accurate and complete examinations of the eyes of school- 
children of all grades have been made on an extensive scale in 
several cities of Europe, with especial reference to this matter. 
The number of children whose eyes have been thus carefully 
examined amounts now to several thousands, and statistics 



HINTS ON THE USE AND CARE OF THE EYES. 2// 

based on them are as reliable as statistics can be made. Some 
such examinations have been made in this country, notably by 
Dr. C. R. Agnew, of New York, and Dr. Hasket Derby, of 
Boston ; but they are not so complete as those we have from 
Germany and Switzerland. 

The deductions from all these separate and independent 
observations have been wonderfully unanimous in their char- 
acter. They show that, while in young children who are just 
beginning to use their eyes for near work, the percentage of 
short-sightedness is very low, — in fact, the opposite condition 
of far-sightedness tending to prevail, — in the more advanced 
classes the percentage increases with the grade of the class, 
and finally exceeds that of any other condition. One investi- 
gator gives the percentages as follows : From the seventh to 
the twelfth year the short-sightedness increases at the rate of 
one per cent, a year ; from the twelfth to the fourteenth, at the 
rate of four and a half per cent, per year ; while from the 
fourteenth to the eighteenth the percentage amounts to from 
fourteen and a half per cent, to fifty-five per cent. 

It will be thus seen that in direct proportion as the eyes 
are used for close work is the myopic condition increased. 
Such a state of affairs would be alarming could we not at the 
same time demonstrate a causal relation between the faulty 
hygienic surroundings in these cases and the large percentage 
of short-sightedness. It would indeed be a terrible thing if 
we could attain culture only through risk of a curtailment of 
the most important sense of which we are possessed. For we 
must bear in mind that — quite contrary to current opinion — 
the short-sighted eye is essentially a diseased eye, and should 
always be considered and treated as such. Some of the most 
melancholy afflictions to which the eye is liable often follow as 
the natural results of the myopic condition. It is true that 
short-sighted persons are generally able to dispense with 
glasses for reading and other near work, even to an advanced 
old age; but for seeing objects distinctly at a distance other 
kinds of glasses are absolutely necessary, the inconvenience of 
using which is quite as great as of using glasses for near 



278 HOME TOPICS. 

work. We should have, then, everything to gain by reducing 
the prevalence of myopia. 

The extensive statistics to which we have alluded have 
shown us another important fact worthy of consideration, and 
that is that, under these pernicious influences, it is not those 
eyes alone which are hereditarily predisposed to short-sighted- 
ness that pass into that condition, but that normal eyes in 
which no such predisposition can be traced, and even far- 
sighted eyes, become short-sighted, if subjected sufficiently 
long to such injurious agencies. 

It has long been a fact widely known that myopia affects 
by preference those who use their eyes constantly for near 
work. And especially is it prevalent among the educated and 
cultivated classes who employ their eyes during a large por- 
tion of the day (and night, too) in reading or writing ; short- 
sightedness is almost unknown among the uncivilized inhab- 
itants of the globe. Watch-makers, jewelers, and some others 
whose business requires a close application of the eyes, form 
an apparent exception to this rule, since the percentage of 
short-sightedness in them is not great. The exception, 
however, is only apparent. They always have a good light; 
seldom work by artificial light, and nearly always use in their 
very fine work an eyeglass, which removes pretty much all 
the strain from the eye ; and the investigations of recent years 
go to show that the most frequent cause of myopia lies not so 
much in the continued use of the eyes as in the unfavorable 
circumstances attending upon their use, and in particular as 
regards illumination. 

In order to an appreciative understanding of the manner 
in which these causes tend to the production of myopia, a 
brief explanation of the condition of the eye in short-sighted- 
ness is necessary. A myopic state of the eye may depend 
upon one of two conditions: first, its refracting surfaces may 
be too strongly curved ; or, secondly, the retina may be too 
far removed from these surfaces — in other words, the eye may 
be too long. Either of these conditions will have the effect to 
allow a distinct image of an object to be formed on the retina 



HINTS ON THE USE AND CARE OF THE EYES. 279 

only when the object is situated within a comparatively short 
distance of the eyes. The images of all objects farther 
removed will be indistinct, because the retina is no longer in 
the focus of rays of light coming from them. Now, the first 
of these conditions (the excessive curvature of the refracting 
surfaces) is rare, and, when present, is generally congenital. 
The second condition, though, beyond doubt, sometimes con- 
genital, is not commonly so, but is developed in after life, and, 
in accordance with statistics^ the percentage of its increase is 
in direct proportion to the continuous use of the eyes under 
unfavorable circumstances. 

The manner in which these circumstances bring about a 
change in the shape of the ball is the following: 

Given a bad light, fine work, or work placed in such a 
position as requires a bent position of the head and body, and 
let it be continued under these circumstances day after day, or 
night after night, and the result sooner or later must be a con- 
gested condition of the eyes, and especially, it has been found, 
of the inner coats of the back part of the ball. This conges- 
tion, if kept up for any considerable length of time, leads to a 
softening of the tissues at that point, and eventually to a 
lengthening of the ball through a giving way of the parts to 
the lateral pressure of the muscles which move the eye. 

Such is the now accepted theory ; but, whether satisfac- 
torily explanatory in all particulars or not, the fact yet remains 
-which cannot be disputed that there is a causative relation 
existing between such circumstances and the production and 
increase of the degree of short-sightedness. This being so 
clearly demonstrated, the course to pursue in order to prevent 
any increase of existing myopia, and even its production de 
710V0, is plain, and this is the point to which we would call the 
earnest attention of our educators. 

The question of first importance is necessarily that of light. 
And this is just where almost every school-room that has been 
examined has been found wanting. 

The quantity of light, in the first place, is rarely sufficient. 
It has been determined that the proportion which should exist 



28o HOME TOPICS. 

between the amount of glass surface (in square feet) and the 
square surface of the floor is as one to three and five-tenths, 
or at least one to four. In other words, for a room twenty 
feet square there should be from seventy to eighty square 
feet of glass, which amounts to between five hundred and 
six hundred square inches for each scholar, should twenty 
scholars occupy it. In many of the rooms examined the pro- 
portion amounted to from one and one-tenth to one and four- 
teen one-hundredths. With insufficient Hght it is no wonder 
that eyes having an inherent tendency to short-sightedness 
should give way. Let, then, the directors of institutions of 
whatever kind where the eyes — and particularly the eyes of 
children — are required to do close work, see that the square 
surface of the windows to the square surface of the floor does 
not fall below the proportion of one to four. 

But even when there is the proper amount of Hght, it is 
highly important that it be rightly managed. In the majority 
of rooms examined, the arrangement of the light was exceed- 
ingly bad. In a large number, what light there was came 
from in front, and of course fell directly in the faces of the chil- 
dren. The ill effects of this are not confined alone to the 
eyes, but extend to other portions of the body. In order to 
avoid the glare of the light, the children either bend the body 
strongly forward so as to shade the eyes by the head, or else 
they twist it around so that the light shall fall directly upon 
the page. Both of these positions exert a pernicious influence 
upon the physical structure of the growing organism. There 
is great danger of the chest becoming narrow and contracted, 
and of the spine becoming curved. Many of the cases of 
spinal curvature and contracted chests can be traced to these 
unnatural positions while at school. 

Without considering further what ought not to be the posi- 
tion of the light, we will say that the desks in the school-room 
(and the same rules apply to all occupations where the eyes 
are used regularly for near work) should be so arranged that 
the light shall come from the left and slightly from above. 
The windows should, therefore, be high, and, if shaded at all, 



HINTS ON THE USE AND CARE OF THE EYES. 28 1 

the shading should cover the lower rather than the higher 
portion. In many instances it may not be possible to use the 
light from the left, and in that case the next best is that from 
the right. In this latter case, however, the shadows cast by the 
hand and arm generally fall in inconvenient positions. 

But even with the most satisfactory management of the 
light, the arrangement of the seats and desks may be such as 
to bring about the same class of troubles, both as to the eyes 
and body. The desks may be too low, requiring a bent posi- 
tion of the body in writing, etc., or the distance between the 
seat and desk may be too great, necessitating a bending for- 
ward of the body, thus depriving the back of its proper sup- 
port against the back of the seat. In order to avoid this, and 
all the other ills which such circumstances entail, the desks 
should be of such a height that the elbows may rest upon 
them, when the body is erect, without any displacement of the 
shoulders. The seat should be broad enough to support the 
whole length of the thigh, and high enough to allow the feet 
to rest comfortably upon the floor. The back should be 
straight, though not high, and the loins should rest against it. 
The distance between the edge of the desk and the back of 
the seat should be such as to allow the body to move comfort- 
ably in the space, but not so great as to permit a bending for- 
ward of the body in writing or in doing other work lying on 
the desk. The top of the desk should have a slant of about 
twenty degrees for writing, and forty degrees for reading. If 
it is flat, the foreshortening of the letters mars in no incon- 
siderable degree their distinctness. A slant of forty degrees 
would be best for writing, also, but the ink would not flow 
from the pen so freely at that inclination. The lid of the desk 
can be made, by a simple arrangement, to assume any inclina- 
tion desired, and all desks should be manufactured with that 
end in view. 

But when we have attended to all these matters, it is neces- 
sary still, if the child is short-sighted, to put its eyes in such 
a condition optically as will allow work to be done at a 
distance of from twelve to eighteen inches (thirty to forty-five 



282 HOME TOPICS. 

centimeters). If the short-sightedness is of such a low degree 
that it does not require a glass of higher power than a No. 20 
for its correction, glasses may be dispensed with for near work, 
but when the myopia exceeds that, glasses should always be 
worn. The best authorities we have on this subject insist on 
a complete correction of the myopia of children by glasses, zuhick 
should be constantly worn and made a part of the refracting 
apparatus of the eye. If this is done sufficiently early, the 
eyes are then placed in the same condition as normal eyes, 
and with the care which we have insisted upon in preceding 
paragraphs, there is but little danger of an increase of the 
degree of the short-sightedness. If, however, this is not done, 
and especially if the hygienic rules are not strictly complied 
with, the law is that there will be a progressive increase of the 
degree, — popular opinion to the contrary notwithstanding. 



OUNCES OF PREVENTION. 

THE class of mothers in America who read this are not 
likely to neglect the mental or moral training of their 
children ; nor their bodies, either, so far as a fervid faith and 
energetic practice in some pet school of hygiene or medicine 
are concerned. But many mothers are apt to look upon any 
persistent attempt to develop the beauty or full physical power 
of different parts of the body as mere vanity and pandering to 
the pride of the flesh. Every sensible mother should recognize 
the fact that God gave the organs of sense, with color, shape, 
and beauty to her child, just as well as a stomach and liver, 
and it is as much her duty to preserve in perfection the one 
gift as the other, while the child is in her charge. 

E,yes. — The eyes are, perhaps, the most important and most 
neglected member of the body. Weak vision and strabismus 
result, in tlic majority of instances, from the habit of giving 



OUNCES OF PREVENTION. 283 

infants into the care of ignorant nurses to drag through the 
sunny streets in Hght-covered wagonets, the tops of which 
reflect the glare into the luckless victims' eyes. The eyes of a 
child under a year old should not be allowed to meet the blaze 
of unshaded sunlight ; and children of advanced age should be 
taught to protect their eyes by resting them when practicable 
on softly toned colors, as, for instance, on the green of the 
landscape, instead of the red clay at the side of the railway. 
A child can be taught thus to care for the health of his eyes 
until it becomes an unconscious habit. The walls, carpet, etc., 
of the child's sleeping and school rooms should be of solid, not 
mixed, colors — as grays, fawn, or green. Any indication of 
defective vision, whether of near-sightedness or more serious 
difficulty, should be referred to an oculist as early as possible, 
and glasses provided under his direction. There is frequently 
a difference in the convexity of the lenses of the eyes, for 
which glasses must be made of different power for each. If 
the parents are ignorant of this fact, the child's weaker eye 
gradually gives up the effort to accommodate itself to the other, 
and becomes absolutely useless before middle age. 

Teeth. — The quality of the teeth is in a great degree hered- 
itary, but can be materially improved by attention to the 
food of the child during the first and second periods of denti- 
tion. Oatmeal, limestone water, strict prohibition of what is 
significantly called *' slop diet," may prevent all the future 
misery which belong to aching teeth, dentists, and bad 
digestion. 

Hair. — Even the highest authority sets down long hair as 
one of the glories of a woman. Yet while mothers are usually 
wiUing to buy their daughters pounds of switches, finger-puffs, 
and curls from the heads of other women, they take no pains 
to keep the hair which Nature gave her. If the hair be of 
coarse texture, it should not be cut short in childhood, as cut- 
ting both darkens and coarsens it. If thin and fine, as is usual 
with women of blonde organization, it should be cut close to 
the head in every case. No tonic or restorative should be used 
to insure a healthy growth of hair; all that is needed being to 



284 HOME TOPICS. 

keep the scalp wholly free from any rheum or dust, and to excite 
the surface by frequent and prolonged brushing; this should be 
done by bathing the whole head in pure cold water (sea or salt 
water) two or three times a week, and by thorough drying and 
brushing until the softness and oiliness return to the hair. 
Successful hair restoratives are simply mild tonics, whose suc- 
cess depends on the friction of the scalp in applying them. 
The hair of a girl should never be artificially curled, crimped, 
or otherwise maltreated. A silken snood or ribbon is the most 
artistic and healthful treatment for it. 

It is folly to underrate the value of grace and ease of bear- 
ing. Some of our wisest men and most earnest women lose 
their effect in society by a slouching, uneasy manner, which 
annoys their companions and even themselves. It is greatly 
the fault of the mother if the child's body does not furnish a 
fit expression to noble thoughts within. First, let her enable 
it to move freely on broad, well-fitting, heelless shoes; secondly, 
let her give it inherent vigor and grace of motion by plenty of 
exercise in the open air, and by training her to womanly and 
courteous habits of thought A girl who is unselfish, modest, 
and gentle in mind is not apt to be awkward or coarse in 
bearing. 



SENSE IN SHOES. 

EVERYBODY has heard the old story of how Canova chose 
five hundred beautiful women from whom to model his 
Venus, and among them all could not find a decent set of toes. 
If he lived nowadays, what luck would he have under the dainty 
little laced bootees, with their high-pointed heels ? As for 
these adult women, however, if they choose to both torture and 
disfigure themselves, we have neither advice nor sympathy to 
oficr ; but the condition of the feet of the children is really too 
serious a matter to be passed by in silence. As soon as the 



SENSE IN SHOES. 285 

helpless baby can put its foot to the ground, and before it can 
complain in words, shoes are put on it, by which the width of 
the toes is contracted fully half an inch, and usually a stiff 
counter is ordered in the heel with some vague idea of 
"strengthening the ankle." From that time, no matter how 
watchful or sensible its parents may be in other regards, this 
instrument of torture always constitutes part of its dress ; the 
toes are forced into a narrower space year by year, *' to give a 
good shape to the foot," until they overlap and knot, and knob 
themselves over with incipient corns and bunions ; then the 
heel is lifted from the ground by artificial means, — thus the 
action of the calf-muscles is hindered and the elastic cartilage 
of the whole foot stiffened at their earliest tender period of 
growth. The results are a total lack of elasticity in the step 
and carriage (American women are noted for their mincing, 
cramped walk), and a foot inevitably distorted and diseased. 
We need not go to the statues of ancient Greece to find of what 
beauty the foot is susceptible when left to its natural develop- 
ment; our own Indian can show us. We have seen the foot 
of an old chief, who had tramped over the mountains for sixty 
years, which for delicacy of outline and elasticity could shame 
that of the fairest belle. Southern children are more fortunate 
in this matter than those in the North, as it is customary, even 
in the wealthiest classes, to allow their feet to remain bare 
until the age of six. Mothers in the North are not wholly to 
blame, however, as the climate requires that the feet shall be 
covered, and it is well-nigh impossible, even in New York, to 
find shoes properly made for children unless a last is especially 
ordered for the foot. As a new last would be required every 
month or two, very few parents are able to give the watchful- 
ness and money required. If shoes of the proper shape were 
insisted upon by customers, the dealers would speedily furnish 
them. Nothing is more prompt than the reply of trade to any 
hint of a new want or fashion. A shoe-maker in one of the 
inland cities made a fortune by advertising shoes of the shape 
of a child's foot. He counted on the intelligence and good 
sense of the mothers, and was not disappointed. If the 



286 HOME TOPICS. 

mothers would insist upon such work from their shoe-makers, 
their children would arise upon well-shaped, healthy feet to 
call them blessed. 



OLD EYES AND SPECTACLES. 

NUMEROUS errors respecting the condition of eyes that 
have become affected with age, and concerning the use 
of spectacles, are prevalent, not only among the laity, but also 
among the mass of medical practitioners themselves. This, 
however, is not to be wondered at, since the more precise 
physiological knowledge of the parts of the visual apparatus 
involved has come to us within comparatively recent years, 
and only those who have been working in that particular line 
have kept pace with the advance of that knowledge. Eyes 
that have become affected through age were formerly, and are 
now by a large number, incorrectly regarded as being in the 
same condition as far-sighted eyes. Persons of all ages may 
be far-sighted, but presbyopia — or old eyes — is limited to 
those who have reached the meridian of life and are traveling 
the downward slope. Far-sightedness, or hypermetropia, is 
dependent upon a faulty construction of the eye-ball — in 
general, it is an eye that is too short : while presbyopia is 
simply the result of the decline of the powers from age. 

Presbyopia consists essentially in an inability to see dis- 
tinctly small objects close at hand. Our ability to distinguish 
fine objects within a few inches of the eyes is due to the fact 
that we have the power to increase the curvature of the crys- 
talline lens, and thus to unite the rays, which come in a diverg- 
ent manner from those objects, upon the retina. Two factors 
enter into the production of this; first, the plasticity of the 
lens, and second, the contraction of a muscle acting upon it. 
Both of these factors undergo modification with age ; the lens 
becomes firmer and less plastic, and the muscle gets stiff and 
less active. 



OLD EYES AND SPECTACLES. 28/ 

Now, while these changes have in reah'ty been going for- 
ward since childhood, they do not, under ordinary circum- 
stances, make themselves appreciably felt until about the 
fortieth year. (We speak now of eyes that are in other 
respects healthy.) At about that age, — or between that and 
the fiftieth year, — most individuals experience difficulty in 
recognizing small objects, especially under bad illumination. 
In the evening, the book or newspaper is laid aside earlier than 
formerly, and casual remarks are made not complimentary to 
the printers of this generation. The page is instinctively held 
at a greater distance from the eyes, and turned so as to have 
the light fall upon it most advantageously. This sort of thing 
growing from bad to worse, you happen incidentally to men- 
tion it to an elder friend, who astonishes you perhaps by say- 
ing: "My dear fellow, you need glasses." The fact is now 
forced upon you, for the first time it may be, that you are 
growing old ! But it is the course of Nature, and you must 
accept the fiat. She now declares that she is no longer able 
of herself to do her work properly, and that art must lend 
its aid. 

And just here comes in a very generally accepted error. 
It is currently believed that the use of glasses should be put 
off as long as possible ; that a too early use of them is injuri- 
ous, and that when once begun it becomes, earlier than it 
should be, a necessity. As the office of the glass is to supply 
the refracting power which the eye, through age, can no longer 
furnish, it is evident that so soon as a need of this artificial 
power is felt we should resort to it. By failing to do so we 
deprive ourselves of much useful work of the organ, while the 
work it does is done under a disadvantage and with greater or 
less risk. 

** But how shall I know when I need them?" you may ask. 
When you can no longer read with ease the finest print of 
your newspaper at a distance of thirty centimeters (twelve 
inches). 

Inconvenience will first be felt in the use of the eyes in the 
evening, and for a year or more you may confine the use of 



288 HOME TOPICS. 

your glasses to work at that time. But soon they will become 
necessary during the day, especially if you have work requir- 
ing close and accurate attention, and the light is not good. 

Under ordinary circumstances, and when the eyes are in 
other respects healthy, the first glasses should be weak — say 
about No. 60, according to the numbering in this country. 
Such a number, however, should be selected as will enable you 
to read the finest print at thirty centimeters (twelve inches). 
After the lapse of a year or two, you will find it necessary to 
increase the number of your glasses to about forty-eight, and 
you will find that these will serve both for evening and day 
work. As regards the frequency with which the glasses have 
to be changed, it differs in different individuals. As a general 
rule, however, they should be increased as much as the indi- 
vidual case may demand every five or seven years — always 
keeping the ''near point" of good, clear vision at about twelve 
inches. The general health will influence this largely, the 
weak, nervous woman feeling the need of an increase in the 
strength of her glasses much sooner than a robust, healthy 
man. Those who use their eyes much, especially if at trying 
work, will also experience a demand for a more frequent 
change. 

These rules apply, as previously mentioned, to eyes in a 
perfectly normal condition. Short-sightedness and far-sighted- 
ness influence the necessity for glasses to a great degree. Short- 
sighted persons can dispense with glasses for near work for a 
much longer time than those having normal eyes, and if their 
short-sightedness is of even a moderate degree, they may live 
to a ripe old age without ever having occasion to use them. 
On the other hand, far-sighted persons feel the need of assist- 
ance very early — often as early as the twenty-fifth or thir- 
tieth year. 

A few words now as to the glasses themselves. In the first 
place, bear in mind that ''pebble" glasses are somewhat of a 
humbug. Even if they are what they are represented to be, 
and arc made of pure crystal, they can serve no better pur- 
pose than if made of good clear glass. They are harder than 



HOW TO CARE FOR THE SICK. 289 

ordinary glass, and thus less liable to be scratched, but that 
virtue is hardly an equivalent for the several extra dollars 
which the optician demands for his ** superior pebbles," which, 
among other recommendations, are "warranted to strengthen 
the eyes by use." A pair of spectacles of clear glass, free from 
defects and accurately ground, which in a neat steel frame cost 
about three dollars or less, will do as much as the pebbles, for 
which ten dollars, and even more, are asked. 

When in use, the glasses should sit square in front of the 
eyes and at a distance of about one inch from them, and the 
centers of the lenses should correspond to the centers of the 
pupils, or a little to the inside, never to the outer, when the 
eyes are looking straight forward. 

The cases in which the glasses are held, when not in use, 
ought to open along the side, so that they can be laid in, and 
not open at one end, which necessitates their being pushed in 
and pulled out. The rubbing of the lenses against the sides 
of the case soon causes a depolishing of their most permanent 
part (the center), and of course materially mars their trans- 
parency. 

For cleansing the lenses, use a piece of old, soft, cotton 
cloth. Silk, linen, and paper are all liable to scratch the 
glass. 



HOW TO CARE FOR THE SICK. 

BY almost all the civilized world, the name of Florence 
Nightingale is spoken with love and admiration. Any 
suggestions upon the care of the sick cannot begin better 
than by her story, which always brings to every one who 
hears it a thrill of longing to do something great and good 
for suffering humanity. 

Many girls think that all they lack is the opportunity, and 
if they only had the chance, they could win the love and 
19 



290 HOME TOPICS. 

reverence of thousands of their fellow-beings just as she did; 
but no one can start out of an aimless, useless life into a heroic 
one. The beginning of the path of glory is narrow and diffi- 
cult, and often very dull. 

Florence Nightingale had been nursing, among the poor 
tenants on her father's estate, for many years before the 
Crimean war began ; so that she was all ready for the oppor- 
tunity when it came. When, in that fearful time, soldiers 
were dying by thousands for want of proper care, England, at 
last, was aroused to a sense of her own responsibility in the 
matter, and it was decided to send nurses. Mr. Herbert, the 
Secretary of War, who had charge of the expedition, knew 
that he could never send a band of women to that foreign 
land to care for the soldiers, unless some one woman could be 
found who understood the whole matter, and could take charge 
of the entire company. There was no time to train a person 
for this position. She must be found, all ready for the work. 
He remembered that, in Derbyshire, there was a woman who 
had been working among the poor in their own homes, and 
had visited hospitals and studied the art of nursing for 
years. Who could doubt that she would undertake the great 
charge of carrying help and comfort to the dying soldiers? 
He wrote and asked her, and his letter crossed, on its way, one 
from her, offering her services as an army nurse. So this 
company of brave women started, with Miss Nightingale at 
their head. When they reached the seat of war, they found 
such sickness and suffering as they had never dreamed of find- 
ing. No ''Sanitary Commission" had poured in boxes of 
supplies, as in our late war. The hospitals were dirty and 
comfortless, and, even when food was abundant, the men often 
suffered, because there was no one whose business it was to 
see that it was given to them. An order had to pass through 
so many different officers, that the men might die before they 
could get what they needed. On one occasion, soon after the 
nurses arrived, the sick were suffering for the want of some- 
thing which was locked up among the stores from England. 
No one could ^ct it until the proper officer came. " I must 



HOW TO CARE FOR THE SICK. 29I 

have it now," said Miss Nightingale. " You cannot, until you 
have a proper permit," said the guard. She said no more, but 
simply called some Turks to help her, and went straight to 
the building where the stores were kept. '* Knock the door 
down," said this resolute woman; and down went the door. 
She took what was needed, and went back to the hospital. 
After that, the officers knew that, though most scrupulous in 
obeying necessary orders, she was not one who would sit still 
and let men die, while waiting until a regular form had been 
gone through. 

You all know the story of how the soldiers loved her, " the 
lady with the lamp," and how they turned to kiss her shadow, 
as it fell upon their pillows ; and how, when she came back to 
England, she met the gratitude of the nation — the Queen her- 
self sending her a beautiful locket, blazing with gems, with 
^'Blessed are the merciful" upon it, and, underneath, the word 
*' Crimea." Her countrymen desired to offer her some testi- 
monial of their gratitude, and a fund was raised for that pur- 
pose, but Florence Nightingale declined any personal reward 
for her labors, and the money was devoted to the founding of 
an institution for training nurses. 

One heroine is sure to make others. When our war came, 
hundreds of women, remembering what she had done, were 
ready to give their time and strength to the work of nursing 
the sick and wounded. Day and night they toiled, and it was 
not all bathing aching heads, nor reading aloud and writing 
letters for the soldiers; there were dreadful wounds to be 
dressed, and tiresome rubbings, and wearisome watchings. 
But they learned that the most distasteful details may be 
endured, if one only has unselfishness and courage. It is to 
be hoped that none of our young readers will ever be needed 
as army nurses ; but it is almost certain that every one of the 
girls, and many of the boys, will have to care for the sick 
many times in the course of their lives, either in their own 
homes or in the homes of others; and unless they know how 
to do it in the best and easiest way, — for the best is always 
really the easiest, — they may do more harm than good. The 



292 HOME TOPICS. 

best intentions and kindliest feelings, in order to be successful, 
must be intelligently applied. Experience is, of course, the 
best teacher, but it is not pleasant for sick people to be experi- 
mented upon, and mistakes or omissions in such matters are 
sometimes fatal; so perhaps a few simple directions may be the 
next best thing to experience. 

In the first place, remember that, in cases of severe illness, 
a friend's life may depend upon care and watchfulness on your 
part, and that the duties of the sick-room are made up of a 
great variety of little things, which may seem trivial, but which 
are really very important. 

Keep the air of the room fresh and pure always, and do 
not try to do it by opening the door now and then. It was one 
of Miss Nightingale's rules that '' windows are made to be 
open — doors are made to be shut." Pure air must come from 
outside. Do not be afraid to open the window unless the 
physician has forbidden it, but be sure that you do not cool 
the air too much in trying to freshen it. There is no essential 
connection between cold air and pure air. In admitting fresh 
air, be very careful that it cannot blow directly upon the inva- 
lid. A shawl spread across two high-backed chairs will take 
the place of a screen in keeping off the draught. 

Keep everything about the patient as sweet and clean as 
possible. Have the room neat, and pleasant, and orderly. A 
row of sticky bottles, with two or three spoons in which medi- 
cine has been measured, a bowl from which gruel has been 
served, an untidy grate, a littered floor or table, will make any 
sick person feel discouraged. A few flowers by the bedside, a 
constant supply of fresh, cool water, bed-clothes frequently 
smoothed and pillow changed, the light carefully shaded from 
the weak eyes, — attention to little things like these will make 
a great difference in the comfort and spirits of the sick person. 

Write down all that the physician tells you before you for- 
get it, and pin the paper where you can consult it easily; and 
look at it frequently, that you may not let the time for giving 
medicine slip by without knowing it. This will save you the 
trouble of remembering everything, and if some one comes to 
take your place, you will not have to repeat the directions. 



HOW TO CARE FOR THE SICK. 293 

Do not wait until sick people ask for what they want, but 
try to anticipate their wishes. Some people, with the kindest 
intentions, annoy by constantly asking the sick if they do not 
wish this and that, and how they feel, and other similar ques- 
tions, until they are quite worn out by answering, and are 
tempted to give the ungracious reply that all they want is to 
be let alone. 

In sickness, people are sensitive to small annoyances which 
can hardly be appreciated by a person in health. The crack- 
ling of a newspaper, or the rustle of a silk dress, may become 
a source of serious discomfort to them. Learn to avoid all 
unnecessary noise, but remember that there is a sort of labo- 
rious quiet, more annoying still. Walking about on tiptoe, or 
whispering, is sure to disturb a nervous person more than an 
ordinary step or tone. If the fire needs replenishing, it can be 
done very quietly by having the coal in paper bags, which can 
be laid on with no noise at all. If you are careful, every time 
you leave the room, to remember to take something with you 
which is to go down-stairs, and, when you come back, to bring 
something which you need, you will save yourself many steps, 
and the invalid the annoyance of hearing you go out and in 
five or six times, when once would have done as well. 

Ask the physician what food a sick person may have, and 
be careful to follow his directions in this, as in everything else, 
exactly. Whatever you take to the invalid, make it look as 
attractive as possible. Do not take too much of anything, as 
a small quantity is much more likely to tempt the appetite. 
Spread a clean napkin over your salver, and if you have noth- 
ing more to offer than a toasted cracker and a cup of tea, let 
everything be good of the kind, and neatly served. A slop of 
tea in the saucer, a burnt side to the cracker, a sticky spoon, 
may spoil what might have seemed an attractive breakfast. If 
the invalid can sit up in a chair to eat, so much the better ; but 
if not, spread a large napkin or towel over the sheet, that it 
may not become disfigured by drops spilled upon it. Have 
something always at hand to throw over the shoulders while 
sitting up in bed, and see that the pillows are so arranged as to 
afford a comfortable support for the back. 



294 HOME TOPICS. 

If you can procure some little delicacy, it will taste much 
better if it comes as a surprise than it will if you have been 
foolish enough to mention it beforehand. Food should never 
be spoken of in a sick-room, unless it is absolutely necessary. 

If you read aloud, be sure to read distinctly, and not too 
long at a time, because sick people are easily tired. This must 
be remembered when callers are admitted. When they ask 
leave to come in, you must say, frankly, that your charge can 
only bear short visits ; and when you yourself are calling on 
invalids, remember that time seems longer to them than it does 
to you. Last of all, but by no means least, talk only of pleas- 
ant things. The baby's last funny speech, the good fortune of 
your friend, the pleasant letter bringing good news from a 
far country, the amusing anecdote, the entertaining book, — 
never of the worries, and pain, and care which come to your 
knowledge. Sick people do not need to hear of others' misfort- 
unes. They know enough of their own. Whatever of weari- 
ness or anxiety you may feel, never betray it by word or look, 
and do not let them feel that the time which you devote to 
them is given grudgingly. I have said nothing of kindness, 
and forbearance, and patience, and good temper ; but all these 
graces will be needed, since invahds often are very provoking. 
Let all their little peevish ways give you a hint of something 
to avoid when your time of sickness comes, and you are minis- 
tered to by others. 

These few suggestions, of course, do not exhaust the sub- 
ject. They may seem to you quite unnecessary, and only 
what ought to be familiar to every one ; but they are not 
always acted upon, as many sufferers can testify. 

Dr. Holmes, who knows something, from education, obser- 
vation, and experience, about a sick-room, says that 

"■ Simple kindness kneeling by the bed 
To shift the pillow for the sick man's head, 
Give the fresh draught to cool the lips that burn, 
Fan the hot brow, the weary frame to turn, 
Wins back more sufferers, with her voice and smile, 
Than all the trumpery in the druggist's pile." 



SHORT HINTS CONCERNING SICKNESS. 295 

SHORT HINTS CONCERNING SICKNESS. 

WHEN the doctor comes to see you, remember how many 
pairs of stairs he has to cHmb every day, and go down 
to him if you are well enough. 

Remember that sick people are not necessarily idiotic or 
imbecile, and that it is not always wise to try to persuade them 
that their sufferings are imaginary. They may even at times 
know best what they need. 

Of course, a nurse "should have a cheerful disposition." 
The veriest tyro that ever entered a sick-room has been well 
drilled in this lesson. But it is a delusion to suppose that an 
everlasting smirk is required. Once, long ago, in that dim 
and far-off war time, an irritated soldier expressed his mind 
on this subject in a way which caused an irrepressible and 
sympathizing laugh throughout the ward, though it contained 
the most dangerous cases, just ''down from the front." 

'* Ef yer don't stop that etar^tal grin o yourn, ye '11 make 
me shiver me other leg off afore mornin', ye ole chessy-cat ! " 

Yet the poor attendant had only been trying to obey the 
injunction of the surgeons, and "always carry a cheerful face." 

Do not imagine that your duty is over when you have 
nursed your patient through his illness, and he is about the 
house, or perhaps going out again. Strength does not come 
back in a moment, and the days when little things worry and 
little efforts exhaust, when the cares of business begin to 
press, but the feeble brain and hand refuse to think and exe- 
cute, are the most trying to the sick one, and then comes the 
need for your tenderest care, your most unobtrusive watch- 
fulness. 



296 HOME TOPICS. 

DOMESTIC NURSING. 

SOME women possess naturally the light foot, deft hand, 
watchful eye, and quick apprehension that are essential 
to the good nurse. Yet there are comparatively few who 
know by intuition exactly w^hat it is best to do and to leave 
undone in a sick-room. In cases of severe or prolonged 
illness it is generally possible, at least in large cities, to procure 
the services of a trained nurse. But frequently, from straitened 
means or other causes, this is out of the question, and then the 
care of the sufiferer devolves upon some one of the household, 
who may or may not be equal to the emergency. It is a 
responsibility bringing with it the terrible feeling of helpless- 
ness when a woman realizes that a life, for which perhaps she 
would gladly give her own, depends in part upon her for its 
preservation, and may be lost through her ignorance or inef- 
ficiency. Under such circumstances, any reliable advice must 
be w^elcome, and it is with the hope of being of use that these 
practical hints, the result of some experience in hospital nurs- 
ing, are offered to those in need of them. 

If there is a possibility of choice, a large, sunny room 
should be selected for the invalid ; if without a carpet, so much 
the better. The importance of sunshine can scarcely be over- 
estimated. Cases have been know^n of wounds, that had 
obstinately refused to heal, yielding to treatment after being 
exposed for a few hours every day to the direct action of the 
sun. It is a capital disinfectant, worth bushels of chloride of 
lime, and never should be excluded unless by the express 
orders of the physician. 

The room should be kept thoroughly ventilated, and at a 
temperature not lower than 6Z^ or higher than 70°. Florence 
Nightingale says the first canon of nursing is to keep the air a 
patient breathes as pure as the external air, without chilling 
him. In most modern houses, the upper sash of the windows 
lets down, and may be kept open a few inches. If there is the 
slightest draught, it may be prevented at a small expense by 
havinj/ a licrht wooden frame, similar to those on which mos- 



DOMESTIC NURSING. 297 

quitto-netting is fastened, about eight inches in width, made to 
fit the upper part of the window. A single thickness of flannel 
must be tacked on each side of it. 

If the patient is kept warm, air may be freely admitted 
without the least danger. Far more persons are killed by the 
want, than by an excess, of fresh air. 

All merely ornamental drapery should be removed from the 
windows, as it only serves to exclude the air and to harbor 
dust. Useless articles of furniture should be taken from the 
room, and those allowed to remain arranged to occupy as 
small a space as possible. 

If the nature of the disease is not known, or if it has been 
pronounced infectious, it is well to remove books, ornaments, 
and trinkets. They absorb infection, and, being difficult to 
disinfect, may communicate it to some one else long after the 
patient has recovered. 

Feather-beds are happily almost obsolete in these enlight- 
ened days. Should there chance to be one in the house, it 
must on no account be put under the invalid. A common 
mattress, w^ith a hair one over it, makes a much more com- 
fortable and suitable bed. The lower sheet must be firmly 
tucked in under both mattresses, at the foot as well as the 
sides. It is an excellent plan to spread a piece of India rubber 
sheeting underneath it, to protect the bed. A sheet folded 
once, lengthwise, laid across the bed, with the upper edge just 
touching the pillows and the ends tightly tucked under the 
mattresses, will be found to add greatly to the patient's com- 
fort. It does not wrinkle as a single sheet will, crumbs can 
readily be brushed off it, and it can be changed with more ease 
than a large one. It is best to fold the upper end of the 
spread under the blankets before turning down the top sheet, 
as it helps to keep them in place. 

The bed linen should be changed at least once in three 
days ; the blankets once a week, those that have been removed 
being hung in the open air for a few hours, then thoroughly 
aired in a warm room, and put away to replace those in use, 
which should be similarly treated. 



298 HOME TOPICS. 

Nothing is more easy to an experienced nurse, or more 
difficult to an inexperienced one, than to change the bed linen 
with a person in bed. Everything that will be required must 
be at hand, properly aired, before beginning. Move the 
patient as far as possible to one side of the bed, and remove 
all but one pillow. Untuck the lower sheet and cross sheet, 
and push them toward the middle of the bed. Have a sheet 
ready folded or rolled the long way, and lay it on the mattress, 
unfolding it enough to tuck it in at the side. Have the cross 
sheet prepared as described before, and roll it also, laying 
it over the under one and tucking it in, keeping the unused 
portion of both still rolled. Move the patient over to the 
side thus prepared for him. The soiled sheets can then be 
drawn away, the clean ones completely unrolled and tucked 
in on the other side. The coverings need not be removed 
while this is being done ; they can be pulled out from the foot 
of the bedstead and kept wrapped around the patient. To 
change the upper sheet, take off the spread and lay the clean 
sheet over the blunkets, securing the upper edge to the bed 
with a couple of pins ; standing at the foot, draw out the 
blankets and soiled sheets, replace the former, and put on 
the spread. Lastly, change the pillow-cases. 

In changing body linen, have the fresh garment aired and 
close at hand ; let the arms be drawn out of the soiled one, 
slip the clean one quickly over the head, and by the same 
movement draw it down and remove the other at the feet. 

In bathing a person in bed, or giving a sponge bath, as it 
is called, either for the purpose of cleanliness or to lower the 
temperature in fever, the chief point to be observed is not to 
uncover too large a surface at once. Pin a blanket around the 
shoulders, fastening it behind, and remove the night-dress 
under that. It is as well to have a blanket under the patient 
also. Put the hand beneath the blanket and sponge the skin, 
a small portion at a time, taking care not to have too much 
water in the sponge, and dry with a towel; proceeding thus 
until the whole body is washed. A woman's hair should be 
combed every day, if she is in any way able to bear the 



DOMESTIC NURSING. 299 

fatigue, else it becomes so matted as to render it almost 
impossible to disentangle it. It should be parted at the back 
and plaited in two braids. If done in one, it forms a hard 
ridge, very uncomfortable to lie upon, while two can be drawn 
well to each side and kept quite out of the way. If, unfort- 
unately, it has become tangled, a little sweet oil will loosen it 
and render it more easily combed. A coarse comb should be 
used, beginning to comb gently downward from a point near 
the ends of the hair, and gradually approaching the head at 
each successive movement, as this will remove the detached 
hairs without needless pulling. 

The teeth should be washed with a small piece of clean 
rag, dipped in fresh, cool water. 

The utmost care and attention should be paid to keeping 
the cross sheet free from crumbs and wrinkles, as these are a 
frequent cause of bed-sores. It should be brushed after every 
meal, and occasionally smoothed and straightened during the 
day. If the patient is perfectly helpless, he must not be 
allowed to lie too long in the same position. In every case, 
the prominent points of the body, as the lower part of back^ 
shoulder-blades, heels, and elbows, where the weight princi- 
pally rests when lying in bed, should be examined daily, and, 
if there is the least redness, bathed with alcohol, thoroughly 
dried, and dusted with powdered oxide of zinc. If these pre- 
cautions have not been taken, and the skin is broken, the sore 
must immediately be relieved from pressure. This can easily 
be done by twisting a strip of cotton batting into a ring of the 
requisite size, winding around it a long, narrow piece of cotton 
to keep it in shape, and then so placing it that the abraded 
surface shall be held away from contact with the bedclothes or 
garments by the encircling cushion. The spot may then be 
dressed with ointment of oxide of zinc, or any healing salve. 
It should still be washed every morning. 

The utmost neatness and cleanliness must be observed in a 
sick-room. If, unfortunately, there is a carpet, it should be 
lightly brushed once a day, the broom being wetted to prevent 
the dust from rising in the air. The furniture and wood-work 



300 HOME TOPICS. 

should be wiped with a damp cloth. It is worse than useless 
to use a dry duster or feather-brush, as the dust is then merely 
transferred from one part of the room to another, instead of 
being removed, as it should be. 

Every utensil should be taken out of the room as soon 
as used, and thoroughly cleansed before being brought back 
again. This may seem sometimes an unnecessary trouble ; but 
could one see the poisonous exhalations that are thus got rid 
of, one would not grudge the slight extra labor that is involved 
in disposing of them where they can do no harm. Every cup, 
glass, and spoon should be washed as speedily as possible. 

There is no objection to there being a few plants in the 
room, so long as it is lighted ; they absorb carbonic acid and 
give off oxygen, and so assist in purifying the atmosphere. 
If cut-flowers are admitted, the water must be changed every 
day. A pinch of salt helps to keep it sweet, and is said to 
keep the flowers from fading. As soon as they begin to lose 
their freshness, they should be removed. 

Should the patient be allowed to eat fruit, a few grapes or 
an orange, peeled and divided, may be kept on a plate placed 
over a bowl containing ice, the coolness imparted to the fruit 
making it more grateful to the palate. If cracked ice is given, 
as it is now in so many diseases, it may be necessary to pre- 
pare it in the sick-room, or at least within hearing of the 
patient. This can be done almost noiselessly by placing the 
lump of ice on a folded towel and using a long, stout pin to 
break off the pieces. If the point is pressed firmly on the ice 
near the edge of the block, fragments can be separated with 
ease. 

Where there is nausea, very small quantities of food must 
be given at once, and that perfectly cold. A single tea-spoon- 
ful of milk or bccf-tea, repeated in fifteen minutes, is more 
likely to be retained than two tea-spoonfuls taken together. 
The quantity may gradually be increased, until at length half 
a tea-cupful can be taken without difficulty. 

When a person is too ill to sit up in bed, a glass' or metal 
drinking-tube, such as can be procured at any apothecary's 



DOMESTIC NURSING. 3OI 

shop, is invaluable for administering fluid nourishment and 
medicines. Should nothing better be at hand, a piece of 
small, flexible rubber tubing will answer the purpose, though 
glass is the most easily cleaned and the best in every 
way. 

In cases of long illness, a small bed- table will be found 
indispensable to the comfort of the invalid. TKjy may be 
bought of black walnut, or prettily finished in light and dark 
wood ; but one that will answer every practical purpose can 
be made at home. A thin piece of board, fourteen by twenty- 
eight inches, forms the top, and strips of wood about five 
inches long, fastened securely at each corner, make the legs. 
When the head is raised with pillows, the table can be placed 
across the chest; anything put on it is brought within easy 
reach, and the sufferer can help himself to food with httle 
exertion. 

In preparing a meal for any one whose appetite is delicate, 
it should be made to look as tempting as possible. The tray 
should be covered with the whitest napkin, and the silver, 
glass, and china should shine with cleanliness. There should 
not be too great a variety of viands, and but a very small 
portion of each one. Nothing more quickly disgusts a feeble 
appetite than a quantity of food presented at one time. 

The patient never should be consulted beforehand as to 
what he will eat or what he will drink. If he asks for any- 
thing, give it to him, with the doctor's permission; otherwise, 
prepare something he is known to like and offer it without 
previous comment. One of the chief offices of a good nurse 
is to think for her patient. His slightest want should be 
anticipated and gratified before he has had time to express it 
Quick observation will enable her to detect the first symptom 
of worry or excitement and to remove the cause. An invalid 
never should be teased with the exertion of making a decision. 
Whether the room is too hot or too cold; whether chicken- 
broth, beef-tea, or gruel is best for his luncheon, and all sim- 
ilar matters, are questions which should be decided without 
appealing to him. 



302 HOME TOPICS. 

Household troubles should be kept as far as possible from 
the sick-room. Squabbles of children or servants never should 
find an echo there. 

In the event of some calamity occurring, of which it is 
absolutely necessary the sufferer should be informed, the ill 
news should be broken as gently as possible, and every sooth- 
ing device employed to help him to bear the shock. 

Above all, an invalid, or even a person apparently conva- 
lescent, should be saved from his friends. One garrulous 
acquaintance admitted for half an hour will undo the good 
done by a week of tender nursing. Whoever is the responsible 
person in charge should know how much her patient can bear; 
she should keep a careful watch on visitors of whose discretion 
she is not certain, and the moment she perceives it to be 
necessary, politely but firmly dismiss them. 

She must carry out implicitly the doctor's directions, 
particularly those regarding medicine and diet. Strict 
obedience to his orders, a faithful, diligent, painstaking 
following of his instructions, will insure to the sufferer the 
best results from his skill, and bring order, method, and regu- 
larity into domestic nursing. 



BLUNDERS IN THE SICK-ROOM. 

\ MATTER often neglected in a sick-room, and yet very 
t\. important, is the dress of the nurse. A patient is not 
likely to tell the affectionate relative ''hovering around his 
bedside " that her dress is such an outrage on taste that it 
makes him melancholy to look at it. He tries to fix his gaze 
upon some other object, — even the medicine bottles are more 
lovely to his view, — but his eyes will wander back again to 
the horrible fascination of that costume. The dingy old dress 
that has been discarded and hung in the garret is not a proper 
one in which to robe oneself for the office of nurse. A short 
flannel sacque and felt skirt may be an economical costume, 



BLUNDERS IN THE SICK-ROOM. 303 

but is not particularly charming. As for the dismal, poverty- 
stricken shawls with which ladies delight to array themselves 
in sick-rooms, one wonders where they came from. They are 
never seen or heard of at any other time. They appear and 
disappear mysteriously, like malevolent spirits. Some ladies 
have a fancy for tying up their heads at such times in faded 
veils, or handkerchiefs of fearful construction. People in health 
would not remain an hour in the presence of such a sight, but 
the helpless patient suffers in silence. The most suitable dress 
for the sick-room in winter is a dark, washable, woolen wrapper, 
not flowing loose, but belted in neatly at the waist, and finished 
at wrists and neck with narrow linen ruffling, and with a Hnen 
neck-tie. Tasteful white linen aprons are pretty and service- 
able. At night, if necessary, throw around the shoulders a 
decent shawl. Even in summer, when calico wrappers are 
worn through the day, it will be found comfortable to change 
at night to the woolen fabric. Wear slippers or warm boots 
made of felt, or of any soft material that does not make a noise, 
A want of sympathy on the part of a nurse is like a per- 
petual cold bath to a patient. This is not a very common 
blunder, but the opposite is so common that it may sometimes 
become a question in the patient's mind whether he would not 
prefer absolute coldness. To be continually dodging around 
the bed, and pouncing upon every object that is not at right 
angles, smoothing out the sheet, and dabbing at the pillows, 
and saying a dozen times an hour : " How do you feel 7iow ? " 
'' Don't you want something to eat ? " '* Can I do anything for 
you?" "Let me bathe your head!" — is enough to drive a sick 
man wild. He feels that he would like to ask you to go away 
and hold your tongue ; but he knows that all this fidgeting is 
prompted by affection, so he holds his tongue instead, and 
bears it all with what measure of patience nature has bestowed 
upon him. In point of fact, the sick person is generally very 
ready to tell his wants. His food, and drink, and physic are 
the momentous matters of the day to him, and will not be 
forgotten. He is likely to tell you when he feels better. He 
is sure to tell you when he feels worse. 



304 HOME TOPICS. 

Worse than all these things is the long, solemn face in the 
sick-room. It is hard for a troubled heart to put on a cheerful 
countenance, and it is no wonder that nurses so often fail in 
this. But we have known persons who thought that a cheerful 
face and a bright smile in a sick-room were indications of a 
hard heart. 



SICK-ROOM PAPERS. No. 7. 

A SICK-ROOM should have a pleasant aspect. Light is essen- 
tial. Blinds and curtains may be provided to screen the 
eye's too weak to bear full day, but what substitute makes up for the 
absence of that blessed sunshine without which life languishes ? 
The walls should be of a cheerful tint; if possible, some sort of 
outdoor glimpse should be visible from the bed or chair where 
the invahd lies, if it is but the top of a tree and a bit of sky. 
Eyes which have been traveling for long, dull days over the 
pattern of the paper-hangings, till each bud and leaf and quirl 
is familiar — and hateful, — brighten with pleasure as a blind is 
raised. The mind, wearied of the grinding battle with pain 
and self, finds unconscious refreshment in the new interest. 
Ah, there is a bird's shadow flitting across the pane. The 
tree- top sways and trembles with soft rustlings — a white cloud 
floats dreamily over the blue, — and now, oh delight and won- 
der ! the bird himself comes in sight and perches visibly on the 
bough, dressing his feathers and quivering forth a few notes of 
song. All the world, then, is not lying in bed because we are 
— is not tired of its surroundings — has not the back-ache! 
What a refreshing thought ! And though this glimpse of 
another life — the fresh, natural life from which we are shut out 

— that life which has nothing to do with pills and potions, tiptoe 
movements, whispers, and doctor's boots creaking in the entry 

— may cause the hot tears to rush suddenly into our eyes, it 



SICK-ROOM PAPERS. 305 

does us good, and we begin to say, with a certain tremulous 
thrill of hope: '* When I go out again, I shall do" — so and so. 

Ah, if nurses, if friends knew how irksome, how positively 
harmful, is the sameness of a sick-room, surely love and skill 
would devise remedies. If it were only bringing in a blue flower 
to-day and a pink one to-morrow ; hanging a fresh picture to 
vary the monotony of the wall, or even an old one in a new 
place — something, anything — it is such infinite relief. Small 
things and single things suffice. To see many of his surround- 
ings changed at once confuses an invahd ; to have one little 
novelty at a time to vary the point of observation, stimulates 
and cheers. Give him that, and you do more and better than 
if you filled the apartment with fresh objects. 

It is supposed by many that flowers should be carefully kept 
away from sick people, — that they exhaust the air or communi- 
cate to it some harmful quality. This may, in a degree, be true 
of such strong, fragrant blossoms as lilacs or garden lilies, but 
of the more delicately scented ones no such effect need be 
apprehended. A well-aired room will never be made close or 
unwholesome by a nosegay of roses, mignonette, or violets, 
and the subtle cheer which they bring with them is infinitely 
reviving to weary eyes and depressed spirits. Many a sigh 
has been changed to a smile by the fresh face of a rose looking 
over the edge of its glass. Many a heavy burden has shifted 
itself momentarily to the slender stem of fringed gentian or 
sweet-pea, and, best of all, when it returned, as return it must, 
to the long-accustomed shoulders, it was never exactly to the 
same spot or with the same pressure. For it is part of Nature's 
law of adjustment that relief, however temporary, produces a 
shifting and redistribution of pain, which in itself is helpful, 
and under the workings of this beautiful law, the little influences 
which break the heavy strain of bodily illness work far beyond 
their own value or knowledge in bringing about Nature's other 
law — the law of health. 



20 



306 HOME TOPICS. 

SICK-ROOM PAPERS. No. 2. 

THE NURSE. 

VENTURING on a few plain axioms which all nurses, 
however limited in scope and ambition, should accept 
and remember, we note the following: 

Secure your patient's confidence. If he learns to doubt 
your memory or discretion, and feels obliged to keep the run 
of the medicines and the doctor's rules in his own head, so as to 
be able to remind yozi, he might as well have no nurse at all. 

Watch his fancies. These " fancies " are often the most 
valuable indications of what will conduce to recovery. Not 
that they are always to be relied upon, still less indulged. But 
an observant nurse will discriminate and judge for herself 

Be quiet in movement and in voice. How a sick person 
learns to hate the fussy nurse, the loud nurse — the nurse that 
rustles ! But '' slowness is not gentleness, though it is often 
mistaken for such: quickness, lightness, and gentleness are 
quite compatible." It is not the absolute noise that harms a 
patient, — it is the strain on his attention and nerves. A long, 
whispered consultation in the room or passage just out of his 
hearing does him more injury than a drum in the street below 
his window. 

Don't fidget. Don't weary the invalid with your mental 
processes. Irresolution is what sick persons most dread. 
People who ''think outside their heads" should never be 
nurses. 

Conciseness and decision, especially in Httle things, are 
necessary for the comfort of the sick — as necessary as the 
absence of hurry and bustle. A sick person should not be 
called upon to make up his mind more than once upon any 
matter. As well demand that he digest two dinners. 

Divert. " A patient can just as much move his leg 
when it is fractured as change his thoughts when no external 
help from variety is given him." And this sameness is one of 
the main sufferings in sickness, just as the fixed posture is one 
of the main sufferings of the broken limb. 



RELATIONS OF INSANITY TO MODERN CIVILIZATION. 307 

If you read aloud, don't drag and don't gabble. Above 
all, don't read bits out of some book which happens to interest 
yourself, in the vain hope of thereby entertaining your invalid. 
Few things create a more painful tension for weak nerves than 
this very common habit. 

And lastly, — with all reverence be it spoken, — dismiss 
from your mind and speech the habit of laying upon *' Provi- 
dence" the blame which is due to human carelessness and 
human inefficiency. Providence — under the dearer and closer 
name of God — is with us in sickness as in health. But, to 
close with some of the best and bravest words spoken in our 
day: '*He lays down certain physical laws. Upon His carry- 
ing out those laws depends our responsibility (that much- 
abused word), for how could we have responsibility for actions 
the results of which we could not foresee — which would be 
the case if the carrying out of His laws was not certain? Yet 
we seem to be continually expecting that He will work a 
miracle — i. e., break His own laws expressly to relieve us of 
responsibility." 



THE RELATIONS OF INSANITY TO MODERN 
CIVILIZA TION 

FOR practical purposes, insanity may be considered as inci- 
dent only to civilization. Doubtless, cases of it have 
occurred in the ruder and unciviHzed conditions of the race, 
from injuries of various kinds to the nervous system, and pos- 
sibly other causes ; but, for our present purpose, these may be 
ignored. So far as I know, we have no accounts which lead 
us to suppose the disease ever existed to any considerable 
extent either among the North American Indians or the na- 
tives of the Pacific isles. 

On the other hand, as communities, states, and nations 
advance in the so-called conditions of civilization, as society 



308 HOME TOPICS. 

becomes more settled and Its conditions more permanent and 
stable, insanity appears. Unfortunately, we have no statistics 
which show how high a ratio it sustained to the general popu- 
lation during the last few centuries in European countries, but 
there can be little doubt that at the present time it bears a 
higher ratio to the whole number of the population, both in 
Europe and this country, than at any former period of history. 
This is indeed a remarkable commentary on, a serious charge 
to bring against, our modern civilization, and it may be well to 
examine for a little the relations of the two conditions. Shall 
we say that civilization and insanity stand in the relation of 
cause and effect ? In other words, does the passing from a 
state of savage life to one of regularity and industry, from a 
state of ignorance to one of learning and refinement, from the 
conditions of uncertain and limited supply to one of fairly cer- 
tain and abundant supply, have so unfavorable an effect upon 
the nervous system as to develop this disease and cause its 
increase ? This would appear to be impossible, and we are 
led to inquire what relation the one sustains to the other. 

I think it may be stated in a general way that there are 
certain conditions incident to, and growing out of, a high state 
of civilization, which in some degree tend to explain both the 
development and increase of insanity. The first to which I 
will allude is a vicious, imperfect , and ijtjudicious education. 

As society advances in the arts and conditions attending 
a higher state of civilization, property increases rapidly, and, 
during the last half-century, it has been a very common occur- 
rence that families who have for generations been cradled and 
reared in poverty, and all their lives have been obliged to 
struggle for the ordinary necessaries of life, have been sud- 
denly lifted into affluence and the surroundings of wealth. 
Labor, which before had been a necessity and a blessing, is 
now looked upon as a curse. That family discipline which 
before had been a necessity, and had secured a manual occu- 
pation, and which now should secure at least an occupation 
for the brain, is altogether gone ; while, in consequence, the 
child is left — nay, too often encouraged — to assert his own 



RELATIONS OF INSANITY TO MODERN CIVILIZATION. 309 

preferences in all things, and the will to strengthen itself in 
idleness and general demoralization. That education for the 
brain which alone could properly fit it for the changed condi- 
tions which environ it, and strengthen it to contend against the 
illusive and dangerous conditions of wealth, and the disap- 
pointment of reverses sure to come, is altogether neglected. 
Serious results in the way of disease may possibly not come 
so long as property lasts, but when, as is too often the case, 
adversity comes, the unfortunate one is left with neither the 
means nor the ability to cope with the adversities of life. Dis- 
appointment, anxiety, and consequent worry, producing irreg- 
ularity of brain action ; opposition to a will grown strong in 
having its own way, acting upon a brain weak from the lack 
of discipline, very often results in upsetting the mind. 

Or, again, the education may be of very impei'fect char- 
acter. In this nineteenth century, everybody is in a hurry. 
The race seems to have suddenly awoke to the realization 
that life is short, and what is done must be done quickly, and 
it cannot take time to become educated. It is a race from 
childhood to manhood, from the cradle to the spelling-book, 
from the spelling-book to the arithmetic, and from the arith- 
metic I had almost, and, perhaps, could truthfully have said, 
to the fully developed responsibilities of life. Fifty years ago, 
they did not do things so rapidly. The artisan or mechanic was 
regularly apprenticed to serve his three or his seven long years, 
in which thoroughly to master both the principles and details 
of the calling he had chosen, or which had been chosen for 
him for life. This was the period of his education, and when 
this was finished, he was expected to have made such acquisi- 
tions as would enable him intelligently to accomplish such 
tasks as should devolve upon him. The same Avas true in 
reference to all the trades and professions. We are all familiar 
with the changed conditions of to-day. How few in the 
various trades and employments go through any lengthened 
apprenticeship or educational process ! A few months or a 
year or two — time enough to master the first steps — is taken, 
and then the ambitious one starts for himself The man who 



3IO HOME TOPICS. 

should have been a learner aspires to become a master; the man 
fitted only to labor on a farm under the direction of others 
becomes himself proprietor, with Httle more knowledge of the 
character of the soils he tills, and of their needs of enrichment, 
than the oxen he drives. In other words, the mechanic, the 
farmer, artisans of almost all kinds, as well as the professional 
man, assume charge of, and undertake to manage, the details 
of caUings in life they have never half- learned. I need not 
say such men have not half a chance in the hurry, competi- 
tion, and struggle of this nineteenth century. The anxiety 
and worry of life are increased a hundred-fold, and are sure to 
tell in time on the nervous system. 

Or, once more, the education may be of an injudicious 
character, relative to the age of the person. I am fully per- 
suaded of the evils resulting to the brain from the forcing 
process prevalent in many of our public schools at the present 
time, especially at that period of life when all the forces of the 
system are, or should be, largely consumed in physical devel- 
opment. The muscular and alimentary systems are so liable 
to injury by overwork when they are in the formative period 
of childhood that legislation may wisely interfere for their pro- 
tection ; much more so, in my view, is the delicate nervous 
system. In childhood, secondary metamorphosis goes on 
much more rapidly in all the systems than in later years, and 
this is especially true of the nervous system. If, then, the 
brain be over-stimulated by tasks at this period, this action 
will necessarily be much increased, and the brain function 
will be more likely to become impaired. The evils, however, 
may not manifest themselves so much in the form of insanity 
as in a system developed in improper proportions; the muscu- 
lar and alimentary systems being left in a large degree to 
themselves, while the brain is unduly stimulated. In later 
years, it seeks revenge in inability or refusal to work, or in 
that general condition termed nervousness. The person is 
inharmoniously developed, and proves of precious little use to 
himself or to the community of which he may be a member. 
It seems to me that the true idea of education is the uniform 



RELATIONS OF INSANITY TO MODERN CIVILIZATION. 3II 

development of all the systems of the body together, — a 
leading out, building up, and strengthening of these several 
parts for whatever calling or profession may be chosen in life^ 
in such a manner that the individual shall be qualified to 
adjust himself or herself to the general conditions and require- 
ments of society, without friction to self or others. How far 
short of this ideal system are those in operation generally we 
all have abundant opportunity to observe, by the many mental 
waifs yearly cast upon society. 

Another condition arising in connection with the surround- 
ings of civilization, of a somewhat different character from the 
former, is the increased facilities of gratifying physical passions 
and co7isequent excesses. 

There are thousands of persons who get on well enough 
while obliged to live in the simplicity and continence of a 
laborious life, and yet when possessed of the means will sud- 
denly rush into wild excesses, and in a few years their nervous 
systems become poisoned and wrecked. In this nineteenth 
century there exists a tendency to herd together to an extent 
we fail to realize. Cities have been springing up all over 
England and America with a rapidity, and increasing in a 
ratio, before unknown. ''Where the carcass is there will the 
eagles be gathered together." Cities furnish the temptations 
to, and the means of, physical excesses. They enrich the city 
vicinage and serve to allure those who have never learned that 
the violation of physical law leads to death, or, what is often 
a thousand times worse than physical death, viz., a poisoned 
and diseased life. If the effects ceased with those primarily 
concerned, the mischief would be less, but, unfortunately for 
society, they pass on to the next generation unless, as is 
frequently the case, through a merciful provision of law there 
does not come another generation. We learn that the intem- 
perate and vicious will be shut out of the kingdom of heaven. 
They are shut out from the kingdom of health while here on 
earth, and the retribution of their works follows them with a 
surety, and often a severity, which can be fully realized only 
by physicians. As an example in point, I may refer to 



312 HOME TOPICS. 

a class of laborers in some parts of England. When living 
with the bare necessities of life and obliged to practice the 
habits of frugality and industry, general paralysis of the 
insane was almost unknown among them. But in conse- 
quence of physical excesses, made possible and easy by obtain- 
ing, through labor combinations, the means necessary, this 
disease, whose march is straight on to the grave, has ap- 
peared to an extent heretofore unknown among any other 
class of society. 

The same process is silently proceeding, on a less marked 
scale, in all the great cities and their vicinage, among those 
poisoned by indulgences of their passions. 

Another condition may be comprised 'in the practices and 
daily habits of life, more especially among the agricultural 
portion of the population of New England and possibly other 
sections of the country. 

The stimulus which arises from the general increase and 
diffusion of wealth has acted upon no class of society more 
strongly than the one now under consideration. As a rule, 
they are ambitious, and this ambition is stimulated by their 
surroundings and the changed conditions of society incident to 
the increased facilities for travel by railroads and steam-ships. 
Seeing others surrounded by the results of wealth, they become 
profoundly impressed with its importance and desirability, and 
are willing to forego almost all other considerations, that they 
may have it and what is incident to its possession. Their 
children must have no ordinary education. A son must go to 
college and have a preparation for some form of professional 
life. Their daughters must attend seminaries and become pro- 
ficient in music, whether they have any special taste for it or 
not. They must have a smattering of French, and German, 
and drawing; they must be dressed in some of the later fash- 
ions, and, in short, be able to make an appearance as good as 
that of their city cousins or neighbors. 

All this necessitates no inconsiderable expense, and, to 
bring it about, the parents, and indeed the whole household, 
bend all their energies. In the summer, the family is aroused 



RELATIONS OF INSANITY TO MODERN CIVILIZATION. 313 

at dawn of day, and in the winter, long before. Every hour is 
consumed in some form of productive labor if possible, and not 
more than seven or eight hours are permitted for sleep and 
relaxation. Recreations from games and holidays are con- 
sidered as so much lost time. And while the system is taxed 
beyond its strength in labor, it is often nourished only with the 
plainest of food. Fresh meat is not seen on the table oftener 
than once a week ; salt pork or beef or fish is used with pota- 
toes, and bread made from flour robbed of its best nerve- 
sustaining constituents, and used while fresh, and often while 
hot. Stale bread is deemed an abomination, while that made 
from the whole wheat is fit for the poor only. 

It will readily be seen how fatal to mental health such 
habits of life are. The results may not be apparent at once or 
in years, — indeed, a strong and vigorous constitution may be 
able to stand the strain to three score years and ten, — but 
they will be sure to appear in the next generation. Nature 
punishes the infringement of her laws sooner or later with 
terrible severity. Those sour grapes which the fathers ate 
have sharpened the cuspids of their children. They are not 
so strong as their parents were ; they are nervous, self-willed, 
irritable, delicate, and unable to endure prolonged muscular or 
mental effort. That vigor, strength, and energy of character 
inherited by the parents has been expended too largely in the 
grand struggle to get on in the world, instead of being trans- 
mitted to their children, so that when the strain and wear and 
tear of disappointment in life comes on, too often the brain- 
power miserably fails. 

We need not, however, wait for the results to appear in the 
children, as they only too often come in the very meridian of 
life. The mind having been kept for months and years in one 
** rut," with little change or relaxation, finally becomes im- 
poverished, if not starved. Debarred from all those elevating 
and nourishing influences which come from intercourse with 
those in other walks of life, and from reading and a variety of 
duties and pursuits, by and by the nervous system becomes 
weakened, so that hundreds of cases appear in our hospitals 



314 HOME TOPICS. 

whose history may be traced to such causes and conditions, 
either direct or inherited, as referred to above. 

Another cause growing out of the conditions of civihza- 
tion, and intimately alHed to the one just considered, is too 
little sleep. 

When a young man, and while a student, the writer well 
remembers hearing some lectures from a person calling him- 
self a physician, in which he took the ground that fifteen min- 
utes was ample time in which to take a regular meal, and that 
all time spent in sleep in excess of four, or five hours at most, 
was so much lost time; that if persons slept only five hours 
instead of eight, they would gain more than six years of time 
in the course of fifty ; therefore, every person who was so 
much of a sluggard as to sleep eight hours instead of five was 
responsible for wasting six years in fifty. That ambitious 
insect, the ant, was held up by the doctor as an example of 
industry and lofty enterprise, worthy the imitation of every- 
body who expects to do much in life — as if he knew how 
many hours that creature is in the habit of sleeping every 
year. He might about as well have put his case stronger, and 
argued that it was everybody's duty to sleep only two of the 
twenty-four hours, because, forsooth, we could gain more than 
twelve years in the fifty by so doing. Unfortunately for 
society, this man was only one of several who have written 
and taught that persons generally sleep too much. It would 
have been better for those influenced by these teachings if 
their authors had never been born. The truth is that most 
people, especially the laboring classes in our cities as well as 
in the country, sleep too little. This is true not only of adults, 
but of children. How often do we see little children out in 
the streets, or at tasks, long after they should have been in 
bed ! How often are they called in the morning long before 
they would have waked, and put to some task or other, and 
the delicate structure of the brain is kept in activity sixteen 
or seventeen hours of the twenty-four ! This habit, being 
formed in childhood, extends into adult life, and becomes so 
fixed that it is difficult for the brain to change its custom. In 



RELATIONS OF INSANITY TO MODERN CIVILIZATION. 315 

fact, the period of wakefulness rather tends to increase, so that 
it is Hmited to six or seven instead of eight or nine hours. The 
man who regularly and soundly sleeps his eight or nine hours, 
whatever may be his occupation in life, is the man who is 
capable of large physical or mental efforts. I do not mean 
that there may not be exceptions to this rule. There have 
been those who could do with four or five hours, and work 
well ; there are probably many such to-day, but these are 
rather exceptions. The great mass of people require more 
for good mental health. 

Sleep is to the brain what rest is to the body, — 

"Sleep, that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, 
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath. 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
Chief nourisher in life's feast. " 

No words could paint more beautifully and effectively the 
office of sleep than these of England's greatest poet. All 
nature teaches the importance of sleep. Every tree and shrub 
and vine has its period of sleep, and if stimulated into ceaseless 
activity would soon die. Every portion of the human system 
is subject to the same great law. The stomach must have its 
periods of rest ; and there are times during every twenty-four 
hours when the kidneys secrete very little, if any, urine. It is 
often said that the heart is an exception to this rule ; that its 
beat never ceases from more than six months before birth until 
nature's last great debt is paid in death. But in truth it is at 
entire rest nearly if not quite one-third of the whole time. Its 
action consists of 2. first and a second sound, covering the con- 
traction of right and left auricles and ventricles, and then a 
rest, — so far as we know, a perfect one. Reckoning this at 
one- third the time taken in each full action of the heart, and 
we have more than twenty years of perfect quiet out of the 
three score and ten. The same is true to even a larger extent 
in the function of respiration. The muscles concerned in the 
operation are at entire rest more than one-third of the time. 
This is an absolute necessity for these organs. Nor is the brain 



3l6 " HOME TOPICS. 

any exception to the law. During every moment of conscious- 
ness, the brain is in activity. The pecuHar process of cerebra- 
tion, whatever that may consist of, is taking place ; thought 
after thought comes forth, nor can we help it. It is only when 
the peculiar connection or chain of connection of one brain-cell 
with another is broken, and consciousness fades away into the 
dreamless land of perfect sleep, that the brain is at rest. In 
this state it recuperates its exhausted energy and power, and 
stores them up for future need. The period of wakefulness 
is one of constant wear. * Every thought is generated at the 
expense of brain-cells, which can be fully replaced only by 
periods of properly regulated repose. If, therefore, these are 
not secured by sleep, if the brain, through over-stimulation, 
is not left to recuperate, its energy becomes exhausted ; debil- 
ity, disease, and finally disintegration, supervene. Hence, the 
story is almost always the same ; for weeks and months before 
the indications of active insanity appear, the patient has been 
anxious, worried, and wakeful, not sleeping more than four or 
five hours out of the twenty-four. The poor brain, unable to 
do its constant work, begins to waver, to show signs of weak- 
ness or aberration ; hallucinations or delusions hover around, 
like floating shadows in the air, until finally disease comes and 

'' Plants his siege 
Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds 
With many legions of strange fantasies, 
Which in their throng and press to that last hold 
Confound themselves." 

Another condition incident to civilization which tends 
largely to develop and increase insanity, and the last to which 
I will refer, is the unequal distribution of the means of living, 
especially in large cities and manufacturing communities. 

In the great contests of life, the weaker go to the wall. 
That term, " the survival of the fittest," in the struggle of life, 
covers a large ground, and numberless are the talcs of suffer- 
ing, want, and disease which never come to the light of day, 
but are none the less terrible as growing out of this struggle. 
The sanitary surroundings of those portions of our large cities 



RELATIONS OF INSANITY TO MODERN CIVILIZATION. 317 

and those of Europe which are occupied by the poorer classes 
of society are often of the worst character. Impure air, from 
overcrowding, the effect of which upon the dehcate tissue of 
the nervous system is deleterious in the highest degree; the 
lack of all facilities for bathing; the insufficient, irregular, and 
often unwholesome food-supply, and its improper preparation 
for use ; the habit of drunkenness, from the use of alcohol in 
its worst forms, and the habit of daily tippling, which keeps 
the brain in a constant state of excitement ; together with the 
immoral practices which grow out "of such surroundings and 
practices, all tend strongly in one direction. By going 
through the hospitals for the insane in the vicinity of New 
York, or those which are the recipients of the mental wrecks 
which drift out of the lower grades of society in Boston, or, 
again, those located near the great manufacturing cities of 
England, we gain new conceptions of the terrible power of the 
struggle implied in the refining process incident to a passage 
up to what are termed the higher grades of civilization. 

We have seen in the spring season of the year the trees of 
an orchard white with unnumbered blossoms. Myriads on 
myriads feed every passing breeze with delicious odors for a 
day, and then drop to the ground forever. And when the 
fruit is formed on the tree, only a very limited number of the 
whole ever attain to maturity and perfection, while the ground 
is strewn with the windfalls and the useless. Why one goes 
on to maturity and perfection while the other perishes so 
soon we may not say with certainty, but doubtless the one 
has some slight degree of advantage in the starting of the 
voyage; it may be a moment or an hour of time, or a 
particle of nourishment, but whatever it is, the consequence 
is apparent. 

So it is in the grand struggle of human life. Myriads 
perish at the very start, and as the process of life goes on, one 
by one, always the weaker, by reason of some defect in 
organization, inherited or acquired, falls out by the way. 
Christianity has taught us to pick them up and try to nurse 
them to strength for further battle. She has built hospitals 



3l8 HOME TOPICS. 

and asylums, and these weaker ones drift into these refuges 
from the storm. So it has been, and so it will be in the future. 
The stronger in body and mind will rise above and triumph 
over the hardnesses and roughnesses of life, becoming stronger 
by the very effort. To him that hath shall be given, and he 
shall have abundance of the possessions of life, but that abun- 
dance is drawn from him that hath not, and he falls out of the 
way as the fruit untimely falls from the tree. Many of them 
are the psychological windfalls of society. 

If the views presented above are correct, we cannot con- 
sider civilization as directly the cause of insanity. Indeed, 
we believe that the educational and disciplinary processes in- 
volved in passing to a higher state of civilization tend in the 
main to strengthen the nervous system and prepare it to resist 
the encroachments of disease, and to maintain a larger degree 
of mental health than would be possible without them. And 
yet there are certain incidental conditions connected with and 
growing out of its progress which do largely conspire to act 
as causes, and which may in a measure serve to explain 
its development and increase among communities tending 
toward or inheriting an older civilization. 



PART VI. ABOUT THE YOUNG FOLKS. 



A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS. 

** T)UT there are girls, too, in the cities and the towns. Do 

JJ not they deserve to be talked with in a friendly way, as 

well as the boys ? * Have n't you something to say to them ?" 

Thus a chorus of girls and their mothers. 

I confess to you, maidens and matrons, that the task to 
which you thus summoned me was one that I undertook with 
some diffidence. When I was talking to boys, I was sure of 
my ground. Something about boys I do know, for I have 
been a boy ; but the wisdom of experience fails me when I try 
to discuss the problems of life as they present themselves to 
girls. That I might have something worth saying, I deter- 
mined, therefore, to seek instruction by sending a circular 
letter to a large number of those who once were girls, but who 
now are women of experience and reputation, asking them to 
tell me — 

'' I. What are the most common defects in the training of 
our girls ? 

* The reference is to an article by the same writer, entitled " The Dis- 
advantages of City Boys," which had been printed in the "St. Nicholas" 
two months before. 



320 HOME TOPICS. 

" 2. What principles of conduct are most important, and 
what habits most essential, to the development of a useful and 
noble womanhood ? " 

This circular brought me more than forty letters, and it is 
upon the truths contained in these letters that this talk will be 
founded. I only undertake to reflect, in an orderly way, some 
of the advice of these wise women. I shall give you their 
words sometimes, and sometimes my own. 

I shall find it necessary, now and then, to turn in this talk 
from the girls to their mothers. Indeed, a large share of what 
is written in these letters is intended for mothers rather than 
for girls, and cannot, therefore, be so freely used in this place 
as I should like to use it ; but the girls are generous enough, I 
am sure, to be willing that their mothers, and their fathers, too, 
should have some share of the advice. 

In the first place, then, girls make a great mistake in being 
careless about their health. I do not know that they are any 
more careless than boys, but their habits of life, and especially 
their habits of dress, are generally more injurious to health 
than those of boys. The great majority of our girls take much 
less vigorous exercise in the open air than is good for them : 
those who can walk three or four miles without exhaustion are 
exceptions. 

" It seems to me a mistake," says one of my correspond- 
ents, " that boys and girls should be trained so differently, 
particularly in regard to out-of-door sports. With a strong 
love for everything in nature, I remember, as a child, what 
torture it was to be kept always in-doors, in some feminine 
employment, while my strong brothers (strong on this very 
account, perhaps) could spend all their leisure time in the open 
air. I was much interested years ago in reading a sketch of 
Harriet Hosmer's girlhood. Her father, having lost all his 
children by consumption, and finding her delicate, resolved to 
bring her up as a boy, teaching her all sorts of athletic sports, 
and thus making her a strong, healthy woman." 

The lack of exercise on the part of girls is due, no doubt, 
in part, to the foolish styles of dress, in which it is impossible 




rJ^^M 



LONGING FOR CHANGE. 



A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS. 32 1 

for them to be out in rough weather, or to make any consider- 
able muscular exertion. "The lack of warmth in clothing, and 
the foolish adjustment of what is worn," are said in one of these 
letters to be some of the chief causes that produce *' the pecul- 
iar nervous diseases to which women are subject." 

I wish I could make you all understand how great a mistake 
you make when you sacrifice health, or the physical comfort 
on which health depends, to appearance or to any other earthly 
good ; when you neglect to provide, by regular exercise and 
wise care, a good stock of physical vigor for the labors and the 
burdens of the coming years. Without this foundation, all 
that you can learn in school, and all that wealth can buy for 
you, will be worthless. " Intellect in an enfeebled body," says 
some one whom I quote from memory, '*is like gold in a spent 
swimmer's pocket, — it only makes him sink the sooner." 

Another great mistake that many of our girls are making, 
and that their mothers are either encouraging or allowing them 
to make, is that of spending their time out of school in idleness, 
or in frivolous amusements, doing no work to speak of, and 
learning nothing about the practical duties and the serious 
cares of life. It is not only in the wealthier families that the 
girls are growing up indolent and unpracticed in household 
work ; indeed, I think that more attention is paid to the indus- 
trial training of girls in the wealthiest families than in the fami- 
lies of mechanics and of people in moderate circumstances, 
where the mothers are compelled to work hard all the while. 

** Within the last week," says one of my correspondents, *'l 
have heard two mothers, worthy women in most respects, say, 
the first, that her daughter never did any sweeping. Why, if 
she wants to say to her companions, * I never swept a room in 
my life,' and takes any comfort in it, let her say it ; and yet 
that mother is sorrowing much over the short-comings of that 
very daughter. The other said she would not let her daughter 
do anything in the kitchen. Poor deluded woman ! She did 
it all herself, instead ! " 

The habits of indolence and of helplessness that are thus 
formed are not the greatest evils resulting from this bad prac- 
21 



322 HOME TOPICS. 

tice : the selfishness that it fosters is the worst thing about it. 
How devoid of conscience, how lacking in all true sense of 
tenderness, or even of justice, a girl must be who will thus con- 
sent to devote all her time out of school to pleasuring, while 
her mother is bearing all the heavy burdens of' the household! 
And the foolish way in which mothers themselves sometimes 
talk about this, even in the presence of their children, is mis- 
chievous in the extreme. *' Oh, Hattie is so absorbed with her 
books, or her crayons, or her embroidery, that she takes no 
interest in household matters, and I do not like to call upon 
her." As if the daughter belonged to a superior order of 
beings, and must not soil her hands or ruffle her temper with 
necessary house-work ! The mother is the drudge ; the 
daughter is the fine lady for whom she toils. No mother 
who suffers such a state of things as this can preserve the 
respect of her daughter ; and the respect of her daughter no 
mother can afTord to lose. 

The result of all this is to form in the minds of many 
girls not only a distaste for labor, but a contempt for it, and 
a purpose to avoid it as long as they live, by some means 
or other. 

There is scarcely one of these forty letters which does not 
mention this as one of the chief errors in the training of our 
girls at the present day. It is not universal, but it is altogether 
too prevalent. And I want to say to you, girls, that if you are 
allowing yourselves to grow up with such habits of indolence 
and such notions about work, you are preparing for yourselves 
a miserable future. 

"Work," says one of my letters, — and it is written by a 
woman who does not need to labor for her own support, and 
who does enjoy with a keen relish the refinements of life, — 
''work, which you so plainly showed to be good for our boys, 
is quite as necessary for our girls." 

Closely connected with what has just been said is the 
mistake of many girls in making dress the main business of 
life. I quote now from one of my letters, whose writer has 
had unusual opportunities of observing the things she describes: 



A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS. 323 

"From the time when the Httle one can totter to the 
mirror to see 'how sweetly she looks in her new hat,' to the 
hour when the bride at the altar gives more thought to the 
arrangement of her train and veil than to the vows she is 
taking upon herself, too large a share of time and thought is 
devoted by mothers and daughters to dress." 

"I have heard," writes one of my correspondents, ''a vain 
mother say of her beautiful baby, 'I'm so glad it 's a girl ; I 
can dress her so much finer than I could a boy.' " O woman ! 
woman! to what depths of degradation you have sunk when 
you can look into the face of a baby lying in your lap, — the 
face of a child that God has given }'ou to train for the service 
of earth and the glory of heaven, — and have such a thought as 
that find a moment's lodgment in your mind ! The pity of it, 
the pity of it, that children should ever be given to such women! 
It is one of the inscrutable things of Providence. What can 
such a woman do but destroy the souls of her children ? 

Listen to these strong words of another correspondent : 

** From the cradle to the casket, and including them both, 
the important question is not of the spirit and its destiny, but 
of the frail house of the soul, — how much money it can be 
made to represent, — what becomes it, and is it all in the latest 
fashion. The occasional sight of a young girl simply and 
girlishly dressed is like a sight of a white rose after a bewil- 
dering walk through lines of hollyhocks and sunflowers. It is 
generally conceded that early tastes leave indelible results in 
character. What may be prophesied for the future of our girls 
with their banged, befrizzed hair, jingling ornaments, and other 
fashions, which some one has well characterized as 'screaming 
fashions'?" 

It is not that there is any harm in thinking about dress, or 
in wishing to be tastefully attired; it is only that personal 
appearance comes to be in the minds of so many of you the 
one subject, to which everything else is subordinate. This 
weakness, if indulged, must belittle and degrade you. 

I do not think that the girls or their mothers are wholly to 
blame for this absorbing devotion to dress. The vanity of 



324 HOME TOPICS. 

women is stimulated by the foolishness of men. A young 
woman who is modestly and plainly clad is much less likely to 
attract the notice of young men than one who is gorgeously 
arrayed. From bright, intelHgent, finely cultured, sensible 
girls, whose chief adorning is not the adorning of braided hair, 
or golden ornaments, or of gay clothing, the young men often 
turn away in quest of some creature glittering in silks and 
jewelry, with a dull mind and a selfish heart. But I beseech 
you to remember, girls, that a young man who cares for 
nothing but "style" in a woman is a young man whose 
admiration you can well afford to do without. If that is all he 
cares for in you, you cannot trust his fidelity ; when you and 
your finery have faded, some bird in gayer feathers than you 
are wearing will easily entice him away from you, and the 
sacred ties of marriage and parentage will prove no barrier 
to his wayward fancies. The girl who catches a husband by 
fine dress too often finds that the prize she has won is a 
broken heart. 

Another mistake that many of our girls are making is 
in devoting too much of their time to novel-reading. The 
reading of an occasional novel of pure and healthful tone 
may be not only an innocent diversion, but a good mental 
stimulant ; but the reading of the lighter sort of novels (which, 
if they do not teach bad morality, do represent life in a mor- 
bid and unreal light, and awaken cravings that never can be 
satisfied), and the reading of one or two or three of them in a 
week, as is the common habit of many of our girls, must 
prove grievously injurious to their minds and hearts. It is 
mental dissipation of a very dangerous sort; its influence is 
more insidious than, but I am not sure that it is not quite 
as fatal to character as, the habitual use of strong drink. Cer- 
tainly, the mental dissipation of novel-reading is vastly more 
prevalent than the other sort of dissipation, not only in "the 
best society," but in the second best, as well ; and five 
women's lives are ruined by the one where one life is wrecked 
by the other. "Ruined," do I say? Yes; no weaker word 
tells the whole truth. This intemperate craving for sensational 



A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS. 325 

fiction weakens tlie mental grasp, destroys the love of good 
reading, and the power of sober and rational thinking, takes 
away all relish from the realities of life, breeds discontent and 
indolence and selfishness, and makes the one who is addicted 
to it a weak, frivolous, petulant, miserable being. I see girls 
all around me in whom these results are working themselves 
out steadily and fatally. 

Another mistake which our girls are making — or which 
their parents are making — is a too early initiation into the 
excitements and frivolities of what is called society. It was 
formerly the rule for girls to wait until their school-days were 
over before they made their appearance in fashionable society. 
At what age, let us inquire, does the average young lady of 
our cities now make her debut? From my observations, I 
should answer at about the age of three. They are not older 
than that when they begin to go to children's parties, for 
which they are dressed as elaborately as they would be for 
a fancy ball. From this age onward, they are never out of 
society; by the time they are six or eight years old, they are 
members of clubs, and spend frequent evenings out, and the 
demands of social diversion and display multiply with their 
years. 

"I think," writes one of my correspondents, who loves 
little girls, ''the greatest defect in the training of girls is in 
letting them think too much of their clothes and of the boys. 
Little girls that ought to be busy with their books and their 
dolls are often dressed up like dolls themselves, and encour- 
aged to act in a coquettish manner that many of their elders 
could not equal." 

*' It seems to me," writes another, ''that one prominent 
defect in our modern training of girls is undue haste in mak- 
ing them society young ladies, and cultivating a fondness for 
admiration by lavish display of dress. Before leaving the 
nursery, many a child does penance by being made a figure 
on which a vain mamma may gratify her taste in elegant 
fabrics and exquisite laces to be exhibited at a fashionable 
children's party. This trait easily becomes a controlling one, 



326 HOME TOPICS. 

and girls scarcely in their teens, with the blase manner of a 
woman of the world, will scan a lady's dress, tell you at once 
the quality of the material, the rarity of the laces, the value 
of the jewels — even venture an opinion whether or not it be 
one of Worth's latest designs, showing what apt scholars they 
have become." 

*' It is in the claims of society upon our girls," writes 
another, who knows them well, ''that their strength is most 
severely taxed, and their characters endangered. To meet 
creditably the demands of this master, our girls must attend 
day-school, dancing-school, take music lessons, go to parties, 
concerts, the theater, sociables; be active members of cook- 
ing-clubs, archery-clubs, reading-clubs; ride, skate, walk, and 
go to the health-lift. To do this and to dress with appropriate 
anxiety for each one of the occasions, a young girl runs an 
appalling gauntlet of foes to the healthy development of her 
soul and body." 

I am sure that the early contact of our girls with the 
vanities and the insincerities and the excitements of social life 
is doing a great injury to many of them. Girls of from twelve 
to sixteen years of age, who ought to be in bed every night at 
nine o'clock, are out at parties till midnight, and sometimes 
later, thus destroying their health and keeping their young 
heads filled with thoughts which are not conducive to healthy 
mental or moral growth. 

And as for the children's parties to which my correspond- 
ents apply words of such severity, I cannot conceive anything 
more hurtful than they are in the way that they are generally 
managed. If a little company of children could be brought 
together in the afternoon or in the early evening, all plainly 
dressed, so that they might romp and play to their hearts' 
content, and take no thought for their raiment — if they could 
be healthily fed, and wisely amused, with no resort to kissing- 
games, and no suggestions of beaux — that would be innocent 
enough; but to dress these children in silks and laces, in kid 
gloves and kid slippers, with frizzed hair and jewelry — to 
parade them up and down the drawing-rooms for the foolish 



A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS. 327 

mothers who are in attendance to comment on their dresses in 
their hearing, saying, **0h, you dear Uttle thing! How sweet 
you look ! What a beautiful dress ! How that color becomes 
her ! " then to chaff them about their lovers and sweethearts, 
and laugh at their precocious flirtations — oh, it is pitiful ! 
pitiful ! I say to you, mothers, that if there are any children 
for whom my heart aches it is these innocent, beautiful chil- 
dren who are being sacrificed on the altars of foolish fashion. 
The children of the poor, thinly clad, poorly fed, rudely 
taught, are not any more to be pitied than are many of the 
children of the rich; their bodies may suffer more, but their 
souls are not any more likely to be pampered and corrupted 
and destroyed. 

From this early entrance into fashionable society the girls 
go right on, as I have said, plunging a little deeper every year 
into the currents of social life, until many of them, as my 
friend has said, are utterly blase before they are twenty. So- 
ciety is a squeezed orange ; they have got all the flavor out of 
it, they have nothing serious nor sacred to live for, and you 
sometimes hear them wishing they were dead. 

I suppose that many of us who are parents yield, with 
many misgivings and protests, to this bad custom, which drags 
our children into social life and its excitements at such an 
early age. We give in to it because all the rest do, and 
because it is hard to deny to our children what all their 
companions are allowed. And sometimes I suspect you might 
go into a com.pany of girls and boys who are keeping late 
hours, and carrying their social diversions to an injurious 
excess, and find there not a single child whose parents did not 
heartily disapprove of this excess. Yet the thing is allowed 
not so much because the parents lack authority over their chil- 
dren as because they lack the firmness to resist a bad social 
custom. 

I will mention only one more sad mistake which some — I 
hope not many — of our girls are making, and it shall be 
described for you in the language of one who has had the 
amplest opportunities of knowing whereof she speaks : 



328 HOME TOPICS. 

" The most common defect in the training of girls is, in my 
judgment, the ignoring of the command to honor and obey 
parents. From the age of thirteen, girls and parents alike seem 
to regard this commandment as a dead letter. The girl of 
thirteen regards herself as her own mistress ; she is already a 
woman in her own estimation, and has a right to do as she 
likes. If she prefers to go to parties, sociables, and so forth, 
three or four evenings in a week, rather than spend her evenings 
in study, she does so. Both she and her parents, however, 
expect and demand that she is to be ranked at graduation as 
high as the laborious, self-denying, faithful w^orker in her class. 

'* Again, in one congregation in this city I know of four 
cases well worthy of thoughtful consideration. The four 
families all are respectable, such people as form the majority of 
your own congregation. In each of three of these families is 
only one child. Each one of these three girls left school when 
she chose to do so, went into society when she pleased, spent 
as much time on the street as she liked, and all three, still 
under twenty, have now become a by-w^ord and reproach 
among all who know them. In the fourth family there were 
three girls, two of whom cast off all restraint, while father and 
mother were regularly taking part in prayer-meetings. This 
father and mother excused themselves by saying they did not 
know what their girls were doing, yet the girls lived at home 
all the time, and their neighbors knew all about their conduct." 

This habit of running loose, of constantly seeking the street 
for amusement, and even of making chance acquaintances there, 
is practiced by some of the girls of our good families, and it is 
not at all pleasant to see them on the public thoroughfares, 
and to witness their hoydenish ways. I know that they 
mean no harm by it, but it often results in harm ; the delicate 
bloom of maiden modesty is soiled by too much familiarity 
with the public streets of a city, and a kind of boldness is 
acquired which is not becoming in a woman. 

Such are some of the errors which are frequently committed 
in the training of our girls, and some of the dangers to which 
they are exposed; I am sure that you will see that none of 



A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS. 329 

them are imaginary, and that all of them are serious. I know 
that many of you, girls, and mothers, too, are fully aware of 
them, and on your guard against them. If I have succeeded 
in drawing the more careful attention of any of you to any of 
them, I shall not have written in vain. 

I have left myself small space to speak of the principles 
and habits requisite to the development of a noble woman- 
hood. These, however, have been suggested in what I have 
said already. In avoiding the mistakes to which I have referred, 
you will be guided to the right principles of conduct. Let me 
speak very briefly of some of the elements which go to make 
up a beautiful womanly character : 

The first is industry. Willingness and ability to work lie, 
as I have said already, at the basis of all good character. The 
moral discipline, the patience, the steadiness of purpose, the 
power to overcome, that are gained in work, and only in work, 
are just as necessary to women as to men ; and the girl who is 
given no chance of learning these traits is sadly defrauded. 

Besides, there are certain strong reasons why girls ought to 
be well trained in that particular kind of work which they are 
most likely to be called to perform. " All women, however 
situated," writes one of my correspondents, "should have a 
practical knowledge of manual labor ; should know how to 
cook, to purchase household stores, how to avoid waste, how to 
buy, cut, and sew garments, how to nurse the sick. All these 
things should be a part of a thorough education, and few 
women can pass through life, no matter what their means 
or station, who will not find the time when such knowledge will 
help others, even if they personally may get on very well with- 
out it." So say a great many of them, and it is all true. 

*' I would train my daughter," writes one, ''to regard all 
work, in the broadest meaning, as honorable. Whatever is 
necessary to be done is honorable work, for highest and lowest 
alike." 

After industry comes thoroughness. It is not enough to 
be busy ; we ought to do well whatever our hands find to do, 
else we may be forced to say what Hugo Grotius said when he 



330 HOME TOPICS. 

came to the end : *' Alas ! I have spent my hfe in laboriously 
doing nothing." To be thorough in study, to be thorough 
in all work, ought to be the aim of every girl, not less than 
of every boy. Our methods of female education have encour- 
aged superficiality rather than thoroughness ; we have given 
our girls smatterings of many things, and mastery of few 
things. We teach them a little Latin, and a little French, and 
a little Italian, and a little German, and a little Spanish, and a 
little English — precious little, too, generally; we give them a 
few lessons on the piano (not often too few, however, of these), 
and a few lessons on the organ, and a few on the harp, and 
a few on the guitar, and a few, perhaps, on the violin or the 
banjo ; we let them take oil-painting for a quarter, and water- 
colors for a quarter, and crayons for a quarter, and china 
decoration for a quarter, and so on, and so on ; and the poor 
things, when they are done with it all, know a little of every- 
thing, and not much of anything. Don't do it, girls ; life 
is short and art is long ; you cannot be mistresses of all the 
arts. It is better to confine yourself to a single branch and 
make yourself proficient in that. It is much better to say, 
"This one thing I do,'' than to say, ''These forty things I dab- 
ble in." 

After thoroughness, independence. A habit of relying 
on your own judgment, a habit of thinking for yourself, and 
caring for yourself, not selfishly, but in a true womanly fashion 
— a habit of taking responsibility and bearing it bravely is one 
of the habits that women as well as men need to cultivate. Your 
parents ought to give you some chance to form this habit ; it is 
a great mistake to shield a girl from all care, and then, by and 
by, when the helpers on whom she has leaned fall by her side, 
to leave her, with judgment untrained and powers undisciplined, 
to carry the burdens of life. 

Respect for character, for manhood and womanhood, more 
than for money or rank, or even genius, is another of the first 
lessons that every girl ought to learn. Virtue, truth, fidehty, 
these are the shining things that every true woman honors, and 
she who values above these a coat-of-arms or a bank account, 



A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS. 33 1 

degrades herself. There is a silly snobbery among some of our 
girls that is the reverse of lovely. I see them now and then 
spurning association with worthy young men and women who 
are poor, and hear them talking in a large way about blue 
blood, when all the blue blood that is in their veins flowed into 
them from the veins of tanners or wood-choppers. Shame 
upon the girl who cannot recognize and honor in others 
the same qualities that lifted her father or her grandfather to 
wealth and station ! 

I might speak of many other elements of character indis- 
pensable to the truest womanhood, such as truthfulness, and 
conscientiousness, and purity, and modesty, and fidelity, but 
I will only name one more, which sums up much of what my 
friends have written, and that is : 

Consecration. It is a great word. It means many things. 
It means, to begin with, that God has some purpose concern- 
ing you, some good work for each of you to do. It means that 
He has given you the power to serve in some way, and 
that He wishes you to devote that power which He has given 
you to that service for which He created you. What kind of 
work He has for you to do I cannot tell; but I know that He 
has called every one of you, with a high calling, to some enno- 
bling work. Not to be butterflies, not to be drones, not to be 
sponges, has He called any of you ; but to be helpers, and 
ministers, and friends of all good ; to wait with ready hands 
and loving hearts for the service that you can do for Him. 
Most of you will be called, by and by, to the dignity of wife- 
hood and motherhood ; there is no greater dignity than that, 
and no nobler work. 

One of the ladies asked me to describe the successful 
woman. There is more than one type, I answer, but among 
them all is none more illustrious than that of the wife and 
mother; the woman who builds and rules a beautiful and 
happy home ; who holds the honor of her husband and the 
reverence of her children ; who leads those whom God has 
given her up to vigorous and virtuous manhood and woman- 
hood, imparting to them by daily communion with them her 



332 HOME TOPICS. 

own wisdom and nobleness, and sending them forth to do good 
and brave service in the world. The woman who does such 
work as this, I say, is a successful woman ; and there is no 
grander work than this within the measure of a man or even 
of an angel. 

But marriage is not for all of you, and should not be for 
any of you the chief end. " I try to teach my daughter," 
writes one, " that while happy wifehood is the glory and bless- 
ing of every true-hearted woman's life, and maternity the 
crown of this, — more to be desired than queendom, — she 
should hold herself too pure and dear a thing to marry for 
home, or position, or because it is expected of her." Many 
women are living happily and nobly out of wedlock, and no 
one is fit for it who is not fit to live without it. 

To what kind of service our Lord has called you, then, I 
cannot tell ; but I know that for you as for Him, the joy of Hfe 
must be, not in being ministered unto, but in ministering. 
God help you to understand it, girls, before it is too late. 
There is so much good in Hving, if one knows how to live ; 
there is such delight in serving when one has learned to serve, 
that I do not like to see any of you going on aimlessly and 
selfishly, and laying up in store for yourselves a future of dis- 
quietude and gloom. There is a better and brighter way than 
this, a way that has never been pointed out more clearly than 
in the simple words of our good friend, Mr. Hale : " To look 
up and not down ; to look forward and not back ; to look out 
and not in; and to lend a hand." Set your feet in that path, 
and follow it patiently, and you will find it the path " that 
shineth more and more unto the perfect day." 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 333 

A CCOMPLISHMENTS. 

SO-CALLED accomplishments are a sort of mansard roof 
clapped on the sounder structure of the average English 
education. Why they are thus denominated, when in the pos- 
session of them so little is really accomplished, it is difficult to 
determine. Their material is generally as unsubstantial as that 
of the thing to which they have been compared, and, subjected 
to the fiery tests of life and experience, they are almost as 
readily destroyed. The acquirement of a little knowledge of 
music, certain rules of drawing, the process of mixing colors^ 
and a few foreign phrases, are oftenest the result of much mis- 
applied industry. If music, drawing, and painting were studied 
and cultivated as arts, with the intent of becoming thoroughly 
proficient in them, that they might stand, if need be, in good, 
practical stead, then the time devoted to them would not be 
wasted. Instead of being mental folfols in which to deck their 
ill-clothed minds in public, these attainments would be of deep 
and lasting satisfaction to their possessors, even though not 
put to any severer trial. 

Few girls care enough for music and drawing to pursue 
them after being freed from the restraint of masters, and many 
would never begin such study were it not for the ambition of 
parents, guided by a society that demands all girls to be 
molded after one model. This idea is so obviously impossible 
as to be absurd. Countless good gardeners, milliners, dress- 
makers, housekeepers, have been spoiled in poor piano-players,, 
simply because knowledge of the piano was considered an ele- 
gant acquisition ; while an understanding of the other things 
was regarded as something that only necessity should require. 
The hours of strumming on unresponsive instruments (unre- 
sponsive because touched by no sympathetic fingers), which, 
otherwise employed, might have made capital cooks, are 
incalculable. 

The original design was good — to enable women to impart 
pleasure and improvement to themselves and others ; but it 
signally fails. Seldom are girls willing to play, or exhibit the 



334 HOME TOPICS. 

work of their pencil, to critical ears and eyes ; and when good 
nature impels them to, what have they to offer ? Ordinarily, 
the merest smattering — more repellent to ripe judgment than 
total ignorance would be. 

It is evident that an acquaintance with the alphabet of 
many branches is not so great an aid to intellectual improve- 
ment as being thoroughly versed in one. In this short life, 
it is much to know even one thing well. If thoroughly under- 
stood, everything, from steak-broiling to oratorio-composing, 
should be considered an accomplishment. Pupils apt at fig- 
ures should be taught book-keeping in place of minims and 
semibreves ; and natural nurses given an insight into bottles 
and bandages, in lieu of curved lines and neutral tint. Thus 
the training of the mind in a direction at once natural and use- 
ful contributes to its healthiest growth, and redounds to indi- 
vidual advancement and general advantage. 



THE BOY WHO WANTS TO BE A SAILOR. 

THE boy in the family who wants to be a sailor is usually a 
source of more trouble in the present and of more 
anxiety for the future than all the other boys who are recon- 
ciled to mercantile or professional pursuits on shore put 
together, even though there are half a dozen of them. He is 
what Mark Twain would call an example of the composite 
order of human architecture, — a contradictory being, positive 
in some ways and negative in others, blending in his effusive 
disposition a varied assortment of vices and virtues; the merry 
plague of all who surround him, annoying and coaxing in a 
breath ; of whom many are ready to predict evil, while, per- 
haps, only his mother, with clear, tender, affectionate discern- 
ment, penetrates the reserve of goodness that lies below the 
rou<di surface of his rebellious nature. 



THE BOY WHO WANTS TO BE A SAILOR. 335 

Few homes have not known such a boy, and few mothers 
and fathers Avho possess many boys have not been put to their 
wits' ends in the endeavor to place him where he should be as 
exempt as possible from the temptations and hardships of his 
chosen profession. If he is earnest in his purpose, and physi- 
cally adapted to so arduous an occupation, it is as difficult to 
dissuade him as it is foolish to tell him that a sea-faring life is 
degrading, unremunerative, and unworthy of his best efforts. 
He can never be made to believe that, — he whose brain is rife 
with the glowing remembrances of Drake, Nelson, Perry, Law- 
rence, and Farragut, all of whom, with at least a hundred 
others, are ineffaceably enshrined in his heart ; no lover ever 
loved his mistress with more longing tenderness than this boy 
loves a ship, and the breath of the sea widens his nostrils and 
lends the sparkle of awakened enthusiasm to his eyes. 

But, with the best intentions in the world, and sometimes 
with the worst results, many parents try to make a landsman 
of him by conjuring up, not only the real disadvantage of sea- 
faring, the tyranny and brutality of some captains and mates, 
the wretched pay, the slow promotion, and the limitations of 
success, but also imaginary or exceptional miseries, of which 
they may have acquired a knowledge by reading without suf- 
ficient discrimination such a philippic as ''Among Our Sailors," 
by J. G. Jewell. That well-meaning little book certainly con- 
tains enough of horrors committed on the high seas to deter 
any one who believes in it, and who is not a born seaman, from 
launching into the profession which it describes. In some 
instances it would prove a valuable supplement to parental 
opposition. We grant that much of it is unhappily true, for 
young relatives of the writer have suffered from the cruelty of 
the captains and officers, who take advantage of their despotic 
positions at sea to over-punish their men; but we are consider- 
ing a boy who is bound to go to sea, and it is a pitiable mis- 
take to start him in the world with a discouraging view of his 
prospects. Having found out his determination, his guardians 
would do better by him in frankly recognizing that the sea is 
an honorable profession. 



336 HOME TOPICS. 

A certain youngster, with an ineradicable predilection for 
salt water, came once upon a time under the care of the writer; 
he was a warm-hearted, impulsive, mischievous lad, who as 
an infant gave his nurse and mother no peace through his 
acrobatic propensities, which left him with as many scars at 
the age of fourteen as a veteran of Balaklava, and no induce- 
ments proved strong enough to keep him ashore. He is now 
on his way home from the Philippine Islands; and in the 
present paper we desire to smooth the course of those parents 
who have sons like him, by describing the opportunities there 
are for training and placing them. 

The Naval Academy at Annapolis offers an excellent educa- 
tion, practical training, and good treatment, and the youth who 
is admitted to it may thank his stars, for there is no other way 
so pleasant and advantageous of becoming a sailor and an 
accomplished gentleman. Candidates are nominated, as often 
as vacancies occur, by the members and delegates of the House 
of Representatives, each of whom has the privilege of appoint- 
ing one ; ten others are appointed at large by the President of 
the United States, and one other by the District of Columbia. 
A sound constitution, a fair moral character, and a thorough 
knowledge of the English branches are essential in the appli- 
cants, who must be over fourteen and under eighteen years of 
age. The examinations are held on June 2ist and September 
1 2th at Annapolis, where the apphcants are required to report 
in person, traveling from their homes at their own expense, 
which, in the case of boys living at a distance, is so great that 
many families cannot afford it, and the benefits of the .Vcademy 
are thus partly restricted to the wealthier and influential classes. 
Having successfully passed the examination, however, the 
cadet-midshipman, as the candidate is now called, finds him- 
self in the arms of a most liberal alma niatcr ; he signs articles 
binding himself to serve the United States Navy for eight 
years, including his probation in the Academy ; he is comfort- 
ably lodged and well fed ; five hundred dollars are, paid to him 
as salary, and a month after his admission his traveling expenses 
arc restored to him. Wc believe there is no school, college, or 



THE BOY WHO WANTS TO BE A SAILOR. 337 

workshop in which apathy or indolence is so httle tolerated as 
at Annapolis ; a boy must work earnestly and with, all his 
strength to succeed ; he must be honorable in his dealings, 
courteous in his manners, and clever in mathematics, — so 
clever that before graduation he will see not a few of his class- 
mates retiring on account o( their inabihty to cope with the 
elements of differential and integral calculus, despite their pro- 
ficiency in seamanship and other branches. Vacancies and 
nominations are usually announced in the local newspapers of 
the Congressional districts in which they occur. 

Besides the midshipmen, there are three classes of cadet- 
engineers, who are instructed in marine engineering, chemistry, 
mechanics, and the manufacture of iron, and are generally 
qualified for positions as engineers of United States steamers. 

All cadets are required to deposit two hundred and twenty 
dollars for books and clothing on entering, which, when it is 
added to the traveling expenses, makes a total amount beyond 
the means of some persons, who are forced to seek other open- 
ings for their sons. A large number of boys determined to 
follow the sea, and having all the elements of excellent sailors 
in them, are unfitted for the Academy on account of insufficient 
scholarship. 

A few years ago, training-schools for sailors were opened 
on three United States vessels, one of which, the ** Minnesota," 
stationed at New York, has now four hundred boys on board. 
The boys are enlisted between the ages of sixteen and seven- 
teen years, to serve until they are twenty-one, and must be 
accompanied by their guardians at the time of enlistment. 
They are paid ten dollars and fifty cents per month, and, if they 
are honorably discharged at the age of twenty-one, they 
receive three months' extra pay. At the age of eighteen, 
they are transferred from the training-ships to sea- going 
vessels, previous to which they are sent out on brief pre- 
paratory cruises in small sailing-vessels, fitted out by them- 
selves under the supervision of the officers. The commanding 
officers of the sea-going vessels to which they are transferred 
continue the course of instruction begun on the training- 
22 



33^ HOME TOPICS. 

ships, which is divided into three departments, viz. : seaman- 
ship, gunnery, and studies. The first embraces practical 
and theoretical seamanship, signals, boats, and swimming; 
the gunnery embraces exercises with the howitzer (afloat 
and ashore), the Gatling gun, the pistol, and broad-sword, 
besides infantry tactics in accordance with the army code ; 
and the studies embrace spelling, arithmetic, grammar, geog- 
raphy, history, and the Bible. A commendable regulation 
is to the effect that the boys cannot be detailed as attend- 
ants on the messes of officers, nor as messengers, nor as 
permanent cooks of messes ; this prevents them from drifting 
into the menial condition which some who enlist ordinarily fall 
into, and which is fatal to the true sailor-spirit 

Enlistments are made in New York, Philadelphia, and Bos- 
ton, and if the parent or guardian cannot accompany the 
son or ward to one of these cities on account of infirmity or 
distance, printed forms of declaration in reference to the boy's 
age and their consent will be supplied by the Navy Depart- 
ment at Washington, which will enable him to be enlisted with- 
out the presence of the parent or guardian. Eligible 
candidates must be of robust frame and vigorous constitution, 
and they must be able to read and write. Their traveling 
expenses from their homes to the port at which the training- 
ship is stationed are not returnable ; but if they are accepted, 
they are provided with the necessary outfit without making a 
deposit, the items being charged against their wages. 

While nearly all the cadets of Annapolis are the sons 
of well-to-do people, and are destined to be officers, the boys 
on the training-ships are mostly of the poorest class, and the 
education they receive simply qualifies them to be sailors 
under the graduates of the former. They have chances 
for advancement ; if they are energetic, there is nothing 
to prevent their holding an admiral's or commander's com- 
mission, although heroic effort is necessary to obtain one ; but 
the training-ships are not adapted nor intended for boys of 
refinement and gentle parentage, and the difficulty of placing 
such of these as are unable to enter the Academy may be 



THE BOY WHO WANTS TO BE A SAILOR. 339 

easily settled if their guardians have the good fortune to know 
some captain, officer, or merchant of trustworthy character. 
Hundreds of crews are shipped in the larger sea-ports from 
California to Maine every month; ** able-bodied " seamen, 
''ordinary" seamen, and even "greenhorns," are in constant 
demand, both for American and foreign ships ; but it is nec- 
essary to make a selection. If the parents have no knowledge 
of the captain with whom they send their son to sea, the boy 
is in danger of contamination by association with a dissolute 
crew and of ill-treatment at the hands of the mates, to say 
nothing of the perils of an unseaworthy vessel. If unable 
to do so themselves, they should engage the interest of some 
friendly broker or merchant, who will look out for a stanch ship 
and an intelligent captain ; and if the broker or merchant 
is not at hand, they should put themselves in communication 
with such an organization as the Seamen's Friend Society, 
Wall street, New York City, the secretary of which will afford 
gratuitous information. There are some captains afloat whose 
vessels are manned by the lowest and most dangerous classes, 
whose authority manifests itself in systematic brutality (such 
as may be unavoidable in dealing with the sort of men over 
whom it is usually exercised, though it is monstrous to a boy), 
and whose example is baneful in all things. If he survives 
it at all, the boy returning from a voyage with a commander 
of this kind is sure to be discouraged, and may be ruined. 
There are other captains, however, who take an interest in the 
welfare of their crews and treat them with kindness, forming 
classes for their instruction at sea, and providing them with 
sensible reading-matter and other amusements, — captains who 
gladly become preceptors as well as employers of the respect- 
able, well-behaved boys placed under them. But these are 
nearly always in requisition by personal friends, and do not 
often have a vacancy for the son of a stranger. 

Aside from the indisputable fact that a "greenhorn" is not 
considered a desirable addition to a crew, a boy should not be 
sent from home to sea without some preliminary training, and 
that is offered by the New York Nautical School on board 



340 HOME TOPICS. 

the '' St. Mary's," of which we have deferred mention until 
now, because it is the final resort of many parents who are 
perplexed by this troublesome young- fellow who wants to be 
a sailor. The "St. Mary's" is a United States vessel, loaned 
b}' the Government to the New York Board of Education, by 
whom a school is maintained for the education of young men 
who desire to serve in the merchant navy. The training is 
excellent, the expenses are small, and the regulations are not 
severe. It is simply required that candidates shall evince a 
positive inclination and aptitude for sea life ; that they shall 
not be under fifteen years of age, and that they shall be 
in robust health. The course lasts two years, and includes 
reading, writing, spelling, arithmetic, geography, grammar and 
history, navigation, and all the duties of a seaman, such as box- 
ing the compass, knotting and splicing, the strapping of blocks,, 
reefing and furling, heaving the lead, using the palm and needle^ 
the handling of boats, swimming, and the various other accom- 
plishments that are looked for in every thorough Jack Tar. 
During the winter months, the ship is stationed at the foot 
of East Twenty-third street, and the boys whose friends or 
relatives reside in the city are allowed to spend Saturday 
afternoon and Sunday ashore. During the summer, she makes 
pleasant little cruises, w^hich are invaluable in enabling the 
boys to see the practical application of what they have learned 
in their classes. Holidays lasting several weeks are granted 
at Christmas, and though the course takes two years, a boy 
can retire at any time he chooses within the first year. By 
graduation, however, he secures a certificate that will obtain a 
berth for him in almost any ship, English or American, and 
as a committee of the Chamber of Commerce, including the 
largest ship-owners of the port, co5perate with the Board of 
Education in the management of the school, he has every 
opportunity of demonstrating his proficiency to its members 
and obtaining employment through them. 

The expenses arc trifling, as we have said, for the only 
outfit necessary is such as nearly every one possesses, — 
stroncf boots, woolen underwear, a blue overcoat, and toilet 



GAMES OF CHILDREN AND GAMBLING OF MEN. 34 1 

materials being essential. The ship supplies two suits of uni- 
form, a cap, a hammock, bedding, etc., to each boy, for which 
thirty-seven dollars are charged, and if at the end of the first 
year he is willing to bind himself for the second, the thirty- 
seven dollars are placed to his credit, so that this amount 
covers the entire cost of the two years' training, excepting 
that of the renewal of boots and underclothing, and pocket- 
money. 

The boys of the '*St. Mary's" belong to a respectable class, 
and a good moral tone prevails among them. The commander 
is a graduate of, and was formerly an instructor at, Annapolis, 
and all the officers bear commissions in the United States Navy. 
The government of the school seems to combine discipline with 
reasonable forbearance, and I advise all parents who have a 
salt-water sprite of a son to consult with Captain R. L. 
Phythian, U. S. N., ship ''St. Mary's," New York City. 



THE GAMES OF CHILDREN AND THE 
GAMBLING OF MEN. 

\ S our elderly and middle-aged readers recall their child- 
-iTl^ hood, they can remember but few games of chance or 
skill that were considered legitimate to the family, and these 
were such games as '' Checkers," '' Fox and Geese," and 
"Twelve-men Morris," played with red and yellow kernels 
of corn on designs scratched on the opposite sides of a plain 
pine board. The various games of cards were generally con- 
sidered contraband, and hence had wonderful charms for the 
boys, who keenly enjoyed the stolen fruit in back garrets, 
woodsheds, and hay- mows. In the youthful days of the 
younger of our adult readers, the games of " Dr. Busby," and 
the "Mansion of Happiness," were added to the list recog- 
nized by the heads of most families, and we well remember 
our doubts concerning the propriety of reporting at home 



342 HOME TOPICS. 

the fact that we had been exceedingly fascinated with the 
game of '* Dr. Busby," at the house of a playmate, and also 
our happiness when the game, after becoming a little known 
in the neighborhood, was introduced to our fireside by parents 
who had the good sense to believe in making home pleasant 
to the youngsters. 

From these simple beginnings a few other games came into 
general use, and parents began to learn that it was not beneath 
their dignity to devote a part of their evenings to making 
home interesting and attractive to the children. 

The word "games" is at present used to denote a wide 
range of amusements and recreations adapted to the home 
circle, such as charades, parlor magic, fortunes, wax figures, 
pantomimes, etc., as well as games of chance and skill played 
with various kinds of cards, or on boards with dice and men, 
all of which, we believe, are each year becoming more popular 
in American homes. 

But while this is so, we would not have a parent forget for 
a moment that the line should be drawn between innocent 
home amusements and what we understand as gambling. 
Many are unable to see where this line is and in what it 
consists, and while they admit the necessity of making home 
the most attractive place to the children, argue that games 
played at home in childhood tend to gambling in manhood. 
This is not so ; it is the use of the game that decides which 
side of the line it must be placed. That delight of every boy, 
the game of marbles, is as innocent as any other childish 
recreation, and yet many boys have received their first lessons 
in gambling when playing marbles for gaijzs, and many parents 
have allowed their sons to count over the contents of their 
marble-bags at night in their presence, who would have held 
up their hands in holy horror at a game of " Bcsique " around 
the evening lamp. Here is just the line we would draw. Never 
countenance any game played for a permanent gain, or in 
which money or its equivalent is the object played for. 

That this must be the one and only distinction between 
innocent recreation and harmful gambling must be seen from 



SCHOOL LUNCHEONS. 343 

the fact that the simplest recreation or amusement of chance 
or skill may be used for gambling purposes, and hence no 
dividing line can be drawn between two games unless, indeed, 
one of them involves vicious habits or practices in itself But 
if all games are made simply matters of amusement, it is not 
Hkely that those boys who stay at home in the evening to 
play them with their parents and sisters will be attracted in 
their manhood by the temptations of the gaming-tables. On 
the other hand, a boy who has been encouraged to be proud 
of his constantly increasing bag of marbles, as the reward of 
his shrewdness and skill in playing, will be apt enough to con- 
sider it legitimate in after years to keep his purse filled in the 
same manner, although ivory balls and pieces of card be sub- 
stituted for the marbles. It is a matter of satisfaction to all 
who have given the subject thought, that innocent games and 
home amusements are fast becoming a prominent feature in 
our homes, thereby establishing counter-attractions to those of 
the saloons and haunts of vice that crowd so closely to our 
doors, not only in the larger cities but in every country village 
in the land. 



SCHOOL LUNCHEONS. 

IT is a fact which is worth the attention of all, that a good 
Boston school lately took occasion, in its annual catalogue, 
to say that its pupils suffer more from want of nourishing 
food than from all other matters combined that come into the 
school-hours. They add : '' It is of little use to arrange for 
varied lessons, frequent change of position, softened light, 
proper attitude, and pure air, if health is constantly under- 
mined by inattention to food." Do you not see that it is time 
for school-girls and school-boys to take the matter into con- 
sideration ? Talk it over with your parents, young friends, 
and beg them to have the fortitude to withstand you when 
you coax them for meringues and mince-pies. 



344 HOME TOPICS. 

Pies are popular, I know ; but they form a bad diet for 
children to study on, especially mince-pies, which, I think, 
almost all of you would select as your favorite. The lard and 
butter and heavy sweetness of them have the inevitable effect 
to make little brains sluggish and dull. Sums wont add up 
and States wont **bound"; heads ache and eyes droop, and 
that ** horrid" geography gets the blame, or the "old arith- 
metic," instead of the real culprit, pie ! Do notice how you 
feel after eating pie, and I think you will agree with me 
about this. 

I wish, too, that more of you fancied brown bread — 
Graham or rye. It is very sound and wholesome, and has a 
great deal more nourishment in it than white bread, and this is 
an important point for you who have to grow as well as to live. 
On the other hand, I am glad that almost all of you enjoy 
fresh fruit. That is nature's own food, and if ripe and perfect, 
it is good for every one. But I am afraid some of you take 
nothing to school but cake, candy, turn-overs, or doughnuts, 
with perhaps a few pickles. 

Perhaps some of you will be puzzled to understand why 
such luncheons as these are improper or insufficient, and I 
must not feel surprised if you are so. Many grown people go 
through their lives in complete ignorance of the qualities and 
objects of food, and of its effect on the growth and health of 
the human body. They fancy if things have an agreeable 
taste, that is enough ; but a pleasant taste, though desirable, is 
not enough; for so soon as food has made its way down the 
throat, its flavor becomes a matter of little consequence. A 
host of tiny forces wait at the bottom of the passage down 
which luncheons and dinners go, whose office is to receive 
what we eat, work it over, distribute, and make it of use to our 
bodies. There they stand at the foot of the long staircase, — 
these small servants, — and when a mouthful of bread or of 
beef descends, they pounce upon it, divide it, and carry it off 
to where it is needed. Some of it goes to the bones, some to 
the brain or to the nerves. This is turned to muscle, — that to 
fat ; the little servants understand their work, and so long as 



SCHOOL LUNCHEONS. 345 

we treat them well, there is no danger that they will waste or 
misapply anything intrusted to them. 

But how few of us always treat them well ! We grow 
careless or hurried, and forget all about the good little serv- 
ants. We pay no attention to their calls, let them stand 
waiting for the food till they are faint and discouraged, and 
then of a sudden we fling a heavy meal down on their hands. 
Or we do just the other thing, and keep them busy all the 
time without any rest at all, till they are worn out Then the 
little servants grow confused and angry, and run blindly about, 
putting things in wrong places ; or they sulk, and refuse to 
work, — and tJien we don't feel well, and "can't imagine" what 
is the reason; or we fall ill, and have a bad time of it till they 
choose to make up the quarrel and forgive us. 

I am afraid that girl did not "feel well" of whom I heard, 
whose luncheon consisted of six pickles, six pieces of bread 
and butter, and a bottle of strong tea ! And what do you 
suppose these little servants thought of these other girls who 
take to school "cake, pie (usually mince), turn-overs, tarts, 
plum-cake, cheese, sticky bits of half-done molasses candy, 
gum-drops, French chocolate, and hot, greasy doughnuts ? " 
Out of this list, only the cakes, pie, and cheese have any 
proper nourishment in them, you observe, and that of a rich, 
indigestible sort, which the little servants will worry over and 
not know quite what to do with. The rest is sheer refuse; 
they will cast it aside contemptuously, and it will be in the 
way of their work just so long as it lies there. Or if, in 
despair, they try to use it, it is sure to do harm. Every part 
of the girl cries out at having such stuff administered to it. 
Her head aches, her eyes ache, her skin feels feverish, her 
Avhole system is loaded and oppressed. She goes home at 
night with the fatal basket empty in her hands, and feels 
that the day has been a bad one, and that life generally 
is hard. Her spirits are low, — spirits always are low after 
such a meal, — nobody seems kind, — nothing pleasant. Very 
likely she ends with a nightmare. And all this discomfort to 
pay for the brief pleasure of twenty minutes' gormandizing! 



346 HOME TOPICS. 

Is it worth while ? I don't beheve any of you will say 
that it is. 

I should think a sort of cooperative luncheon might prove 
a good idea for some of you. Suppose, for instance, that six 
girls agreed to arrange their lunch on this principle, — one car- 
rying bread nicely sliced and buttered, one some cold chicken, 
one a few hard-boiled eggs, with a paper of salt, one a square 
of fresh ginger-bread ; another a jar of stewed fruit, with a 
spoon and some milk-biscuit, and the last a supply of apples 
or oranges. You see what a substantial and varied luncheon 
they would have, and yet each mamma would have less trouble 
than in providing a little of several things for her special child 
to carry. It might be worth while for some painstaking moth- 
ers to try this plan. 

There is one thing which is not always considered, and that 
is, the importance of making a child's school-dinner look 
attractive. There is something very dampening to the appe- 
tite in the aspect of thick bread and butter rolled in a bit of 
coarse brown paper, with a cooky or two sticking to the par- 
cel, and an apple covered with crumbs in the bottom of the 
pail ! Such a luncheon often will prevent a delicate child from 
eating at all. A little care spent in preparation — in cutting 
the bread trimly and neatly, packing the cake in white paper, 
and the whole in a fresh napkin, in choosing a pretty basket to 
take the place of the tin pail — is not pains thrown away. 
Some children are born fastidious, and with a distaste for food. 
They require to be tempted to cat at all — tempted, not by 
unwholesome goodies, but by taking trouble to make simple 
things dainty and attractive to them. We have heard a grown 
woman, whose fastidiousness had survived her childhood, 
describe with a shudder the effect which her dinner-basket at 
school had upon her. The very sight of it took away all appe- 
tite, and she went through the afternoon faint and fasting 
rather than meddle with its contents. Do what is possible to 
give the luncheon an appetizing appearance to the little peo- 
ple who depend upon it for the working force of their long 
school-day. 



THE SCHOOL-GIRLS' MEALS. 347 

THE SCHOOL-GIRLS' MEALS. 

THE physical education of school-girls is now receiving so 
much attention that it seems in place to ask the attention 
of mothers to the bad habits in eating into which a girl who 
attends a daily school is very apt to be driven. A girl who 
is growing, who studies hard, and who has all sorts of demands 
made upon her time, brain, and health, certainly needs sound 
sleep and plenty of nourishing food. The sleep she may get, 
for nature is likely to have some influence in this connection, 
but the majority of these girls get as little comfort from their 
meals as is possible. They are not apt to rise early unless it is 
to gain time for study or practice, and they hurry through their 
breakfasts, nervous for fear they will be late, and perhaps 
anxious about their lessons. Before the rest of the family has 
come to the second cup of coffee, the girls have finished their 
meal and probably are off to school. 

They carry with them a lunch that is rarely tempting, but 
still more seldom nourishing, and this scanty, ill-digested 
breakfast, supplemented by the luncheon of bread and cake, 
must support them through all the morning hours of constant 
work. If the family has dined in the middle of the day, the 
girl's dinner has been saved in the oven, and is put down 
before her on a corner of the dining-table, where it looks any- 
thing but inviting. She is probably tired or excited, — for the 
average school-girl alternates between these conditions, — and 
she is not tempted to do more than hungrily satisfy her 
appetite, or wearily turn from the half-dried meal. If the 
dinner hour comes later in the day, she possibly studies her 
next day's lesson while waiting for her meal, and finds it hard 
to fix her mind upon her book. If dinner were ready, she 
fancies the lessons would not seem so complex, and as fasting 
rarely clears the mind of any one less saintly than a monk, she 
is right. After dinner, however, matters are not much mended, 
for then she finds herself growing sleepy, and the bed is the 
object of desire. That she is undergoing a slow process of 
starvation does not occur to the mother, who watches her with 



348 HOME TOPICS. 

anxiety, and who prohibits parties and long walks and late 
hours. The doctor orders iron to give tone and appetite, when 
he had better order time and tempting, nourishing food. 

The boarding-school girl, in spite of the grumbling about 
the table, is often better off, in this respect, than the daughter 
at home, for eating, at school, is regarded as one of the duties 
of the day, and it is attended to with some degree of order and 
leisure. We commend this subject to mothers for attention, 
and it might be suggested to doctors who are asked to help the 
daughter to better health, that they sometimes should prescribe 
plenty of good food and plenty of time for eating and digest- 



A WORD TO THE WISE. 

IT is worth while to think, sometimes, that in making a child 
happy you are not only working for the present moment, 
but are helping to store up pleasant memories which shall 
brighten the days of care and darkness which the future will 
surely bring. 

Let your children have pets if they are willing to take good 
care of them, not grudgingly nor of necessity, but with that 
sympathetic kindness which shows the true mother-love. 

If you happen to be one of those unfortunate people who 
dislike animals, it will require self-denial and patience on your 
part, but it will be worth while to make the effort. Remem- 
ber, you are cultivating the finest qualities of your children. 
Your boys and girls will grow more gentle, and thoughtful, 
and unselfish, and their love for their pets will strengthen the 
tics which bind them to their home and to each other. 

Never mind if the dog does leave muddy foot-prints on the 
sofa, and the kitten pulls off the pillow-shams, and the rabbit 
nips the buds from your flower-bed ; the remembrance of an 
indulgent home, brightened by the love of these dumb friends, 



THE BOY JOHN. 349 

will be worth more to your children in after years than all your 
orderly house and flourishing garden. 

Your birds will be flown before long, and you will not mind, 
then, if the empty nest has lost some of its first freshness. 



THE BOY JOHN. 

BACK under the shadows of that time when man was paw- 
ing himself loose from monkey realm, unsophisticated 
wisdom would have it that John should be trained up in the 
way he ought to go. We, of course, know better. In that 
twilight period of no steam- boats, no female suffrage, no 
reforms, no town-meetings, no beer-gardens, how should they 
understand ; but in these happier days, when every boy can 
explore the mysteries of a normal school or drinking-cellar, 
Solomon's wisdom with respect to the very trifling matter of 
John's education will hardly do. 

Solomon built a house. But who now would build after 
that old Hebrew's drafting ? Do we not have modern 
improvements ? And so should not the boy John have the 
benefit of modern improvements ? In old time it was, ''Train 
up a child in the way he should go," on the ground that being 
trained in it he would be likely to stick to it. 

But in this riper age we have a deeper philosophy : " Let 
nature alone to work out its own way ; do not restrain it." We 
have learned that pent-up things, such as steam and reforms, 
are dangerous. They should be allowed to blow off. And so 
the child has a steam which he should blow off. He has fires 
of youth which ought to be burned out, and not smothered to 
char on his life. Having a wayward disposition incident to 
youth, he should be suffered to work it off and be rid of it, so 
as to settle down gracefully into sober manhood. 

John is an awkward, restless, fidgety fellow, whose chief 
end is to torture the cat and tear clothes. His parents con- 



350 HOME TOPICS. 

gratulate themselves that their boy is growing up under the 
hallowed influences of a Christian home. What is it, then, 
that marks John's home as hallowed and Christian ? When 
the toil and drive of the day are ended, and the evening hours 
begin to throw their hush over the household, what is there 
in living-room or parlor, got ready by a parent's Christian 
thoughtfulness, for making the closing hours of day the happy, 
the joyous, the loved ones of all the twenty-four ? John has 
been in for dinner, eaten it, and gone out again. He has been 
in for his supper, eaten that, and now, after doing the last 
things of work-time (for John happens very often to be a boy 
who knows what work is), he comes in weary in body, yet 
uneasy in mind, restless, yearning for something; — some 
recreation, some joy, some sport, some play, laugh, frolic, 
unbending of some kind to relieve the hideous tedium of all 
tread, tread, tread in the mill of toil. The mother, having 
put her house in order for the night, takes some odd piece 
of work — sewing, knitting, or crocheting — and worries out 
the fag-ends of weary flesh and lamp-light The father takes 
his evening paper, or his evening drowse, or both of them, 
rolling in an easy-chair, or tipped up in one that is not easy, — 
himself silent, dull, dismal. 

But the boy John, — what of him ? What shall he do ? He 
does not know how to knit or crochet ; he does not care for 
the newspaper. What are politics, and Congress, and Tam- 
many to him ? What fun for him in Beecher's sermon or the 
Farmers' Club ? He looks up and around. Not an eye or 
countenance shows one ray of sympathy with his uneasiness, 
pitching and rolling now to the brim. He looks up on the 
mantel ; nothing there. He looks up to the clock ; nothing 
there. He looks around on the walls, up at the ceiling ; noth- 
ing for him there. He looks out of the Avindow : well, he 
begins to see the glimmer of something for him out there ; 
though nothing under that roof, within those walls, around 
that stove, which the world calls his home. So John yields up 
a sigh, a stretch, and a yawn, and out he goes for sympathy 
into the darkness. The mother works on. The father reads 



THE BOY JOHN. 35 1 

and dozes on. The boy is now beginning to go on in the way 
he likes to go. Other boys fleeing out from other such Chris- 
tian homes, or from homes that are not Christian, meet him on 
the street. They mingle their discontents and sympathies till, 
with the leap and dash of young life, they come together into 
a plot for mischief, or into the chamber where billiards are 
played, or into the cellar where entertainment is for man and 
— beast ; or anywhere up or down where Hfe and unbending 
for the restless fibers of youth can be found, and where the 
evening hours are not spent in the dullness of knitting and 
dozing. 

John is young. His tastes are unformed. His feelings are 
very far from being refined. In fact, he is a little gross in his 
sympathies. He wants amusement. Every bone in his body 
aches for recreation, for play, fun, laughter. He does not care 
— he has never been taught to care — what the fun is, if only 
it will give relief to the fidget that stings him. Not at all 
refined, he will go for what he wants where others go. And 
going where others go, he finds the hunger of his nature 
coarsely met — just as tainted meat will fill the hunger of a 
starving man — in the low revelry, vile stories, unclean mirth 
of drinking-cellars and saloons. The boy does not discrimi- 
nate very closely, and to the longing of his crude appetite the 
entertainment of these places is infinitely better than any he 
ever could find in that place which he has been taught to 
speak of as home. For eating, and sleeping, and getting his 
clothes mended, he feels that no place can be equal to a Chris- 
tian home ; but for a good time, for passing a dull evening 
hour, for learning something new, for words of cheer, for pro- 
fessions of sympathy, for those genial ways which a boy does 
love, and which any boy but a Uriah Heep must love, John will 
tell even the minister to his face that home is nothing to a street 
corner, or a billiard-room with the attachment of a beer-shop. 

Well, by and by, just before the clock strikes ten, the 
father wakes from his doze, the spectacles falling and the paper 
sliding upon the floor, and, looking around with a bewildered 
gaze, asks, '' Where is John ? " 



3 52 HOME TOPICS. 

Where is he ? Why, for want of better instruction, he is 
out practicing- our modern plan of training himself up in the 
way he likes to go, having no thought that when he is old he 
will care to depart from it. But the father who has inquired 
for his boy rubs his eyes, looks out into the darkness, and lis- 
tens ; but he hears him not. He wishes that his boy would 
not go out so of nights ; but then he does go out. He wonders 
that John cannot sit down at home like other boys. What 
other boys? And then, with a very feeling remark that ''if 
John does not do better and become steady, he will make a 
miserable shirk of himself," the father goes to bed. The 
mother waits till her boy comes. By and by he does come in, 
— his restlessness blown off, the uneasy fidget of the early 
evening spent in relaxations which, of some kind, a boy must 
have, — and then at last the house is quiet. Sleep and rest 
prepare the household for another day and evening like these. 

And when that other evening comes, out goes the boy 
again ; and the father again wonders, and wishes that John 
would be steady and stay at home, and very feelingly predicts 
that *'if he does not change his course, he will very likely 
come to a miserable end." 

But, good father, why should your boy spend his evenings 
at home ? What is there at home for Jiim ? What pleasant 
recreation, what happy plan for whiling away the hour, does 
he find inviting him tJiere, or that would invite any boy there ? 
What have you done to make home attractive and winsome to 
him as Johns home ? He would like amusements suited to 
his young, restless, brimming nature ; how much real thought 
and care did you ever give in schemes, devices, plans, efforts, 
with a view to meeting this passionate yearning of his mind ? 
How much do you play with him, tell stories with him, make 
riddles with him, talk with him of what you have done and 
seen, of what your father did and saw ? What games, what 
sports, what efforts at skill with slate and pencil, with knife, 
saw, and gimlet, have you devised for him, while your look 
and action were saying, ** My boy, I want you to love your 
home more than any other spot on earth " ? 




HOW JOHNNY AMUSED THE BABY 



THE BOY JOHN. 353 

But your boy is not all for sport, though in this evening 
hour he does want a change from the employments of the day. 
His eager mind is ever on the alert to learn something, and if 
his mind is guided, he will take as much pleasure in the acqui- 
sition of useful knowledge as in that which is frivolous; he will 
quite as easily be led to the reading of good as to the reading 
of trash. Now, among the book-shelves of the old house, how 
many shelves have you filled for your boy ? What books do 
fill them? You buy, — for you are the father, or perhaps the 
kindred of that father I had a talk with a few weeks ago, — you 
buy for your own use the " Almanac," " The Gazetteer," the 
" Lives of the Apostles," ** Scott's Commentary," " Emblems 
of Faith," a " History of the War," ''Martin F. Tupper," the 
" Speeches of Henry Clay," and a picture of Lincoln. But 
what for your boy ? You spend eight dollars a year for your 
daily paper, which you go to sleep over evenings ; as many 
dollars spent in suitable reading for him, in each of the five 
years past, would have given him a stock now which he 
would read and read over again through the twilights of 
summer and long evenings of winter. But, mind you, it 
must be suitable reading. Of the books mentioned above, 
you yourself do not read one, beside the '' Almanac " and 
"Scott's Commentary." And most certainly you do not 
expect your boy to read them. Here, then, are a dozen or 
fifteen dollars wasted. And just in the same manner you can 
fling away money in buying books for John — books which 
he will not read and which no boy will read. Books there 
are, more than a father will wish to buy in one year, which 
any boy, quick, active, hungering, restless as yours is, 
will sit down and read by the hour ; and as he reads will 
loathe himself more and more at remembering that he ever 
cared to look into those places where man and beast are (or 
perhaps in strict grammar I should say is) entertained. 

You sigh, do you ? And you answer, '' All this sounds 
very well ; but to carry out such a plan would cost some- 
thing." Indeed, so it would. I did not think of that. Yet it 
is a matter that should be thought of Let us look at it. Do 
23 



354 HOME TOPICS. 

you make use of tobacco ? Pardon me, I mean no offense. 
Christian fathers do sometimes make use of it. Suppose, then, 
yoiL do. How much does it cost you ? Ten cents a day ? Too 
much ? Then say (for I will take no advantage) five cents a 
day. I think you would rather have it ten cents : for five 
leaves me to infer that you smoke very poor cigars. However, 
we will stick to five. But five cents a day would be eighteen 
dollars and twenty-five cents a year. Eighteen dollars and 
twenty-five cents every year (except leap year, when you 
would put in one more cigar, and which, for the fun of the 
thing, you perhaps would pay ten cents for) — eighteen dollars 
and twenty-five cents every year turned into smoke ! And 
you cannot afford to buy ten dollars' worth of books in a year 
for your boy ! 

*' But I do not use tobacco, the vile stuff," 3^ou may possibly 
answer. And it is no conclusive mark against one's Christian 
character not to use it ; though you need not speak disrespect- 
fully of that which is the '* sweet morsel " of so many a Chris- 
tian. You do not use it, then. But your neighbor does. 
*' My neighbor — what have I to do with my neighbor in 
the matter?" Don't be impatient; just hear me a moment. 
Your neighbor does use tobacco, if you do not. Now, if he 
can afford to burn up five or ten cents every day, twenty or 
forty dollars every year, of his income, and have nothing for it, 
how is it that you cannot afford to spend half as much money, 
and have a boy for it at home happy, contented, and training 
up in the way he should go ? Is the delicacy of tobacco so 
priceless to your neighbor, and is a good, home-loving boy of 
so little worth to you ? I know you do not think so. You 
love John, and will do anything for him. 

Training up a child in the way he should walk unto the 
end, — the wisdom of an old fogy three thousand years ago, — 
is very much despised in this advanced age. Many a Christian 
parent has a way of flinging this drudgery off from his own 
conscience upon the conscience of a charitable public. The 
family is not the school of moral and religious training it ought 
to be. The evening hours for home enjoyment and the Sab- 



THE BOY JOHN. 355 

bath for culture are not given, it may be feared, as they should 
be by Christian parents. Our Sunday-schools, with all their 
boast of good (and they boast not in vain), have encouraged an 
infinite evil in just this direction. The father is weary with the 
toil of the week, and so, instead of training his child himself, 
he sends the boy, ar the girl, to the Sunday-school, trusting 
(as if he had lost his wits) that the dear public will feel as much 
interest in his child as he ought to feel. 

But this boy that we have been talking about (I feel a good 
deal of interest in John) — let us follow him a little longer. 
Neglected by father and mother, — to be sure, his father sends 
him to school and his mother mends his clothes, — with no 
home bright, sunny, made cheerful, happy, attractive for him, 
he is out on the street; in saloons and cellars at last he is — 
in fact, he is in any place where his brimming nature can flow 
over, and the uneasy, restless activities of his soul can spend 
themselves. He quickly feels the contrast between these 
places and his home. At home, the care of father and mother 
has been given to provide him the accommodations for eating 
and sleeping ; and John goes there to eat and sleep. Beyond 
these they have scarcely troubled themselves about any other 
wants their boy might have. They have seemed to feel that 
he could hardly want anything more. Yet John does want 
something more. He has looked the house all over to find it ; 
but it is not there. So he goes out to seek it elsewhere. 
Genial companionship, amusement, recreations for the coil and 
spring of his boyish mettle, he does not find where his father 
and mother are ; but he does find them where other homeless 
boys gather and homeless men are found, — where the story, 
the joke, the game, mirth, and drinking fill up the hours of 
evening. 

After this training has been going on till the boy has got a 
fair start down that way he will be likely to go, the father one 
day rubs open his eyes to the real state of the case. He 
begins to feel troubled. He is really alarmed. He wonders 
why it is that John will act so. He inquires of himself what 
can be done, assuming himself that he has done everything 



356 HOME TOPICS. 

which a father can do for a loved son, — '' for have I not clothed 
my boy, and found him a comfortable home to sleep in ?" — he 
gives him up ; what else can the poor father do ? — he gives 
his boy up to the keeping of public benevolence. ** I have 
done all I can do ; my conscience is clear. Now," he says 
to public charity, " look out for your conscience." And so 
temperance organizations, Good Templars, Knights of What- 
not, take the boy into their keeping and do what they can for 
him. The father is easy again. He takes his evening paper, 
reads, and goes to sleep; for his boy — "is he not safe in the 
hands of public keeping ?" Safe? /? he safe ? Can you sleep 
on now and take your rest ? Good Templars and such things, 
devised to pick up the homeless, are not quite so sure as — as 
— well, as the laws of Nature, the rising and setting of the sun. 
Divisions and lodges of temperance may be faithful a thousand 
years or so ; but then the sun has been doing his work faith- 
fully six times as long. 

After a period of years I come back where the home of 
this family is of which John is so important a member, and 
look in upon them once more. As only the last week I 
looked into some of those families that I knew long time ago, 
and learned with heart-ache of their Johns, so I come back to 
this family and inquire about its John. The father and mother, 
with a lurid smile, yet with a warm grasp of the hand, wel- 
come me. We sit down, and soon the talk wanders back into 
the past. God has been kind to them, though the burden of 
years begins to be heavy upon them. Their work will soon 
be done. They are finishing up the day's labor, and getting 
ready for the long evening and the final sleep. I look about 
me and remember. I turn to the mother, and with a cheery 
voice break in, "And what has become of — of John, that I 
used to see?" 

The mother drops her hands. Her work falls to the floor. 
She turns away her eyes. She cannot answer. In the mean 
time, the father has slowly risen from his seat, and, as if to do 
some forgotten thing, has gone out. In a minute I follow 
him, I find him with downcast look, hands clasped behind 



THE BOY JOHN. 357 

him, pacing to and fro on the greensward by the door. We 
sit down under a maple, through which the full moon is 
shaking her beams upon us, and there he tells me of John. **I 
hoped well for my boy. I did what I could for him. He was 
my all. But he would not stay at home like a steady boy. 
He spent his evenings abroad. Bad boys and worse men led 
him away. He learned to go with them that have done him no 
good. Not that John was naturally vicious: before he went 
with bad men he was a good boy. He learned it all. He 
began to drink — at first because others did. Soon he loved 

it; and . I cannot go over these sad years. You can 

think how it has been. My boy — is — lost — to me; but if 
— through the infinite — mercy of God — he might not be lost 

to heaven . Oh, the burden of my heart is greater than 

I can bear! If I could think of him in his childhood inno- 
cence and purity as safe under the sod, I should have some 
comfort in that. But there is not much comfort for me now. 
The staff that I leaned upon has broken and pierced my side. 
I can only think of him now, and say, 'John, my boy, you do 
not mean to kill your father; you know not what you do; you 
do not think how you are crushing me down to the grave.' 
But enough of this. Let us go in." 

In the house we do not talk much. We are not in the 
mood for it now. The current has been broken, and no one 
feels like trying to restore it. After a little while I bid the 
father and mother good-night, and go away. At the end 
of the gravel walk in the road I stop and look back to the 
lighted windows. It is the last look that I shall ever give 
them, very likely. My thought is, "Good father, you never 
had a home yourself, perhaps, and so you knew not what such 
a thing would be for a boy like John of years ago. You did 
not know how you could make your boy love it forever as his 
dear old home. You had not learned how to wind the love of 
it into his heart. And you did not think how there might be 
memories of it that would make him die rather than cast a 
shadow on its hallowed sunshine." 



358 HOME TOPICS. 

THE USES OF CHANGE. 

THERE are one or two mistakes in the management of 
house and children which are oftenest made in notably 
"well-ordered Christian families," especially in those living in 
the country, or in quiet inland towns, where they are exposed 
to little friction with the outside world. The first is a hatred 
of change. The Squire and his wife married late, perhaps ; but, 
in any case, have hardened and settled down into certain 
admirable habits before the young people arrive at their teens. 
They cannot understand why these old ways should not be 
always admirable ; nor why, when the old ways are suited to 
their own middle-age, like any well-woven, comfortable gar- 
ment, they are heavy iron yokes and bonds to uproarious 
Tom, and even to gentle Susy. For example, the same dishes 
appear on the table the year round ; mother cannot guess why 
father and the boys relish even an ill- cooked meal away from 
home, and have no appetite for the everlasting beef and apple- 
pie, or mutton hash, which she gives them from January until 
December. She is her own seamstress, too, most probably, 
and cuts and trims the girls' dresses and boys' coats after some 
occult designs of her own. The more devout she is, or sepa- 
rated by high thoughts or past sorrows from worldly affairs, 
the more trivial do such matters appear to her, and the less 
likely is she to sympathize with Jenny's pangs as the girls 
giggle at her queer polonaise, or Ted's rage of mortification 
as the boys pursue him with yells of '' Shoot the hat ! " 

We should live above our clothes or food, she wisely says, 
not seeing that she is willfully making clothes and food the 
objects of importance and perpetual uneasy anxiety to her 
children. She is slow, too, to perceive any necessity for change 
in her habits of visiting or receiving visits. Jenny and Ted 
yawn through the monthly sewing-circle, or the tea-drinkings, 
where the doctrine of election, or the iniquities of ancient 
popes, are freely discussed ; but it is a long time before their 
mother yields to their demand for tea-drinkings or circles of 
their own. It seldom occurs, too, to this class of parents that 



THE USES OF CHANGE. 359 

the minds of their children require absolute change of place, 
range of thought, and companions. Travel is the very last 
way in which the average farmer will spend money for his 
family. If somebody has to go to the county town to invest 
his savings, or sell his wheat, and his oldest son can be trusted, 
well and good; that is enough ''outing" for the boy, and the 
old man prefers to sit in his own chimney-corner, and wants no 
wider view than his own fields. If he Avere told that the fire- 
side, from sheer monotony, had become hateful to his children, 
and the home-hills an intolerable wall which barred them from 
the unknown world, he would declare them either insane or 
under the dominion of the devil. The boys usually manage to 
find their way out to the world ; but unless the girls marry, 
they are stranded on the barren beach of home. Nobody who 
does not know what Hfe is in this class of farm or village houses 
can imagine how barren a home may be. 

There are at this day thousands of single, middle-aged 
women in the West or South to whom the sea or mountains, 
or the sea-board cities, are as vague and desirable objects of 
longing as heaven itself. They live with their mothers, per- 
haps, who are affectionate and tender, but who never guessed 
at the restless discontent which might have been satisfied by a 
few short, inexpensive journeys. It would be worth while for 
every mother to consider whether much of the irritability, the 
crossness, the languor of body and soul, which she complains 
of in herself and her children, is not due simply to the monot- 
ony of home, and whether it would not be wise to cut down 
the outlay on dress and food and spend the money in car-fare. 
There is no such educator as travel, no such medicine for nerv- 
ous diseases, and no speedier way to quiet that restless, vaga- 
bond blood which every observant mother has discovered in 
both her boys and girls. 



360 HOME TOPICS. 

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. 

WHILE we talk to the house-mother (and the name ought 
to suit the dainty matron on Murray Hill, or the Ohio 
farmer's wife, as well as it did Griselda) about giving an hour 
every morning to ordering and righting the details of comfort 
in her household, we must put in a claim on behalf of the 
children for an hour in the evening. Of course, every mother 
cries out that she gives her life to her children; they are on 
her mind night and day — she thinks, plans, works for them 
constantly. All very probably true, and yet the children 
may scarcely know their mother, or feel that they individually 
have any share in her. The more a woman actually works for 
her children, cooks, sews, or perhaps earns money for them, 
the less likely is she to sit down with her hands folded to talk 
to them, to listen to their little secrets and stories about the 
teacher and the school-boys, to get into the very heart of their 
fancies and foolish plans and hopes. We insist upon the hour 
which shall be absolutely the children's, no matter what work 
or social claim must be put aside for it. Let any woman 
quietly reckon over the minutes of the day when she is her 
children's companion — not nurse, nor seamstress, nor in- 
structor — and she will be startled into confessing that our 
plan is more needed than she thought. By the time their 
school-hours and the necessary household occupations, and the 
time for meals, visits, and visitors, are subtracted, there is 
usually not a moment when the little creatures can feel that 
their mother is altogether their own. Especially is this true in 
city life, where nurses and governesses come in between them, 
and cannot well be put aside. Even in the evening, at the 
hour when almost every mother loves to hang over her baby 
and sing it to sleep, Tom and Jenny, grown out of babyhood, 
arc sent off to their lessons, and presently creep sleepily to 
bed, left to think their own thoughts as they go. Now, sup- 
pose every mother who reads this page should, for a month or 
two as a trial, set apart that lonesome evening hour as the 
children's. What if she docs give up the opera or agree- 



SOME POPULAR MISTAKES. 361 

able guests in the parlor? There are higher duties required 
of her than the study of Offenbach or hospitality. Let her 
leave her sewing behind; don't let her dress be too fine for 
Nelly to maul and climb over, nor her thoughts busy with any- 
thing but the children's talk. Silly as that may be, they are 
the keenest of observers; they will know instantly whether it 
is only mamma's body that is with them while her mind is 
far away, or whether she herself is as much in earnest, as 
eager to talk and to listen, as she is with grown people and 
strangers. 

Nor need she fill up the hour with hints on behavior or 
morals; put off reproofs until to-morrow; let them slaughter 
their tenses or tell of their school-scrapes as they choose, — for 
this little while she is their friend — comes near to them. We 
know of one house where a poor seamstress puts by her 
machine every evening to play bHnd-man's buff or marbles 
with her boys, — '*It will count for more than money," she 
says; and another where two bearded young fellows at nine 
o'clock eagerly clear away their Virgils and maps for ''mother's 
talk," and think it the best hour of the whole day. 



SOME POPULAR MISTAKES. 

A GOOD many years ago, Lamb contended unsuccessfully 
t\. with an obstinate pubHc on certain universal fallacies; but 
the mistakes to which we call attention to-day belong espe- 
cially to mothers and housekeepers — a class proverbially open 
to reason : 

First. That early to bed and early to rise in all cases will 
make a man healthier, richer, or wiser than his neighbors. In 
the country, where the morning air is pure, and the day's work 
is manual work, the adage holds good. It is certainly advis- 
able to get the bulk of the job for the day, whether that be 



362 HOME TOPICS. 

plowing, washing, or churning, over in the soft, dewy hours 
of early morning, and leave for the sultry noon the Hghter 
in-doors work. Besides, the heavy meal of the day on a farm 
is usually eaten before one o'clock, and the light tea is digested 
before nine, the usual hour of retiring. But all this is no reason 
why the virtuous farm-wife, going to sleep with her chickens, 
should sniff with pious contempt at city folk, '* who turn night 
into day." The professional man in the cities cannot begin his 
business until the customary hour of nine o'clock, nor end it, 
in order to dine with his family, until five or six. After the 
day's drudgery and this heavy meal, the brain-worker requires 
not fresh air nor sleep so much as relaxation, change of idea, 
use for the faculties of mind not brought into play in his busi- 
ness. Two or three hours of "the inspiration of the candle" 
renews and rests the strained brain, and fits it for the healing 
touch of sleep. Children, of course, who dine, as do country 
folk, at noon, should be sent to bed, or rather be taken there 
by their mothers, early in the evening. It is better for them 
to be sound asleep under the blankets, and certainly better for 
both mother and nurse to have a few hours of quiet and respite. 
Grown people have their rights as well as little ones. The 
children (if their bedroom is properly ventilated) will be up 
quite early enough in the morning; but they should not be 
sent out for a walk until they have had breakfast and the fogs 
have lifted. It may be very well for dwellers in the country to 
brush the dew from off the upland lawn ; but those who brush 
the dew from city pavements will be very likely to bring home 
diphtheria and malaria with them.' 

Seco7id. It is a favorite maxim with city mothers that chil- 
dren are warmer-blooded, and need less clothing, than adults. 
Especially is this held true of babies and girls. Boys are 
warmly protected by cloth leggins, kilt suits, and stout shoes, 
while their little sisters defy the winter wind in bare knees and 
embroidered skirts. There is a poetic fancy, too, that girls 
should be kept in white up to a certain age. A dozen little 
girls, of from three to five, were assembled the other day, and 
the universal dress was an undcrvcst and drawers of merino, a 



SOME POPULAR MISTAKES. 363 

single embroidered flannel petticoat, and an incumbent airy mass 
of muslin, ribbons, and lace. Meanwhile, their mothers, women 
of culture and ordinary intelligence, were wrapped in heavy 
woolens, silks, and furs. In consequence of this under-dress- 
ing, the children are kept housed, except on warm days, or 
when they are driven out in close carriages, and therefore a 
chance cold wind brings to these tender hot-house flowers, 
instead of health, disease and death. It is absolute folly to try 
to make a child hardy by cruel exposure, or to protect it from^ 
croup or pneumonia by a string of amber beads, or by shutting 
it up in furnace-heated houses. Lay away its muslin frills until 
June ; put woolen stockings on its legs, flannel (not half-cotton 
woven vests) on its body, and velvet, silk, merino — whatever 
you choose, or can afford — on top of that; tie on a snug 
little hood, and turn the baby out every winter's day (unless 
the wind be from the north-east and the air foggy), and before 
spring its bright eyes and rosy cheeks will give it a different 
beauty from any pure robes of white. 

Third. Another scarcely less serious mistake is the theory 
that the moment ill-temper, natural depravity, original sin, or 
whatever you choose to call it, appears in a child, it is the 
parents' duty to apply the rod, or moral suasion, — in short,, 
to ''begin its training." Now, it is a fair rule to start with, 
that no child under two years, who is perfectly healthy and 
comfortable, will worry or cry. Colic, or a budding toothy 
has much more to do with its temper than Adam, or any 
spiritual snake. We urge upon the young mother spearmint, 
coddling, unlimited patience — anything rather than force, 
moral or physical. Even when the child is older, it is safer to 
begin the treatment of all attacks of ill-humor or perverseness 
by inquiring into the state of its digestion. When the mother 
rises cross and moody, she knows very well it is owing to 
the late supper last night, or that cup of green tea. There 
is, luckily, nobody to ''apply the rod" in her case, or to throw 
the blame unjustly on her conscience. Nervousness with a 
child is almost always a matter of the stomach. A crust of 
bread will usually put an end to the most obstinate perverse- 



364 HOME TOPICS. 

ness. Children, for this reason, should never be allowed to go 
to bed, after a fit of crying, with an empty stomach. A bit of 
bread and jelly, or a cup of custard, will bring back smiles 
and happiness when all the moral law fails, and for the soundest 
of reasons. 



SHALL WE HAVE A SOCIETY FOR THE 
PREVENTION OF CRUELTY FROM CHILDREN? 

THERE is no denying that in hotels and boarding-houses, 
cars and steam-boats, street and parlor, children are com- 
ing to be dreaded more and more. As a class, their manners 
are almost universally bad; their voices are appalling; they eat 
like savages, and, in fact, set at naught all the social amenities. 

Who is to blame for this ? Certainly not the children. 
How can you expect a child to eat in a civilized way if it has 
never been trained to it? We are not so many degrees 
removed from the aborigines that refinement is always in- 
stinctive. It is hardly fair to condemn and dislike a child for 
monopolizing or interrupting conversation when no education 
has taught it differently; and why should the ears of the pub- 
He be deafened by the shrill voices of Young America till such 
time as it shall learn that all the world does not care to hear 
its innocent remarks ? Why — to be comprehensive — should 
children, as a rule, be regarded by their parents, friends, and 
the public generally as a curse instead of a blessing? Simply 
because the parents do not respect the rights of the public. 
Let me mention a few instances in my own experience which 
will recall similar cases to every mind. 

Only a few days ago, I went in the cars from No-matter- 
whcre to A-place-of-no-consequence. It was a warm, damp, 
muggy day, — one of those days when dust will stick to the 
most immaculate, and when eating, except with the most 
attractive surroundings, is not to be thought of The cars 



CRUELTY FROM CHILDREN. 365 

were quite full of returning city families, and I did not notice 
till we had moved from the station that I had placed myself 
in the seat directly behind a mother and four children, the 
eldest of whom might be ten and the youngest two. The 
appearance of the party was not unprepossessing, and for a 
short time things progressed quietly ; but before long the 
baby became fretful, and finally asked for milk. Now began 
my trials. A basket of portentous size, which I had not before 
noticed, was drawn forth from among the family feet, and a 
bottle and a cup were extracted from it. But what a bottle ! 
What a cup ! The first was flat and brown, suggestive of 
rum, and the latter was silver, with greasy finger-marks upon 
it. Some milk was poured out and given to the child in a 
back-handed kind of way, which caused about two-thirds of 
the liquid to run in streamlets over its clothes, and the remain- 
ing portion to go down its throat with a "glug" which meant 
a choking fit before long. I will not particularize. Handker- 
chiefs were brought into requisition, thumps on the back 
administered, and quiet restored, only to be broken by cries 
from the remaining three for something to eat. A peach w^as 
now given to each child, and the juice from the fruit, mingling 
with the dust which had by this time accumulated on their 
small faces, soon painted them in colors which memory dreads 
to recall. The peach refection was followed by sandwiches. 
And why will people persist in making sandwiches of a large 
and substantial slice of ham between two uncertain pieces of 
bread? Need I tell how the bread vanished, and the ham 
straggled forth in hopeless strings? Who cannot imagine the 
greasy shine which surrounded their mouths and glistened on 
their fingers, — fingers which soon seized on the glasses of the 
ice-water boy and made you feel that, if you had not had your 
individual drinking-cup with you, death, in the agonies of 
thirst, would be preferable to nectar from those tumblers? A 
damp bread-and-butter smell now pervaded the atmosphere, 
and from time to time a dive would be made into the depths 
of the basket, and more peaches, more sandwiches, and then 
crackers were brought up, — crumbly crackers, crackers which 



2,66 HOME TOPICS. 

fell to pieces in unwholesome-looking flakes, and stuck to the 
children's faces. Then, as if to top the climax, the lunch- 
basket at last produced molasses cakes — small oblong cakes, 
so full of the sticky fluid that they seemed perspiring with 
it; the kind of cake which left its shiny surface in brown 
patches on faces and fingers till the latter were cleansed — 
shall I tell it? — by a series of licks — there is no other word. 
Had I remained in their vicinity longer, I have no doubt that 
either gingerbread or cream-cakes would have been the next 
course; but at this point I reached A-place-of-no-consequence, 
and hastily left. My last view of those children haunts me 
like a nightmare. 

Very much the same thing goes on at hotels. There are 
few of us who have not sat at the table with children whose 
food has been put in their mouths e7i masse ; children who 
have reached before and across you for anything and every- 
thing they fancied ; children who have talked about you and 
commented on your appearance with perfect freedom ; and we 
exclaim, ''What dreadful children!" when we should say, 
''Wretched parents, so to neglect your duty to the public !" 

My friends, the H's, are among the brightest of my 
acquaintances. They have a charming home, and — four boys. 
"I used to dine at Sally's every Sunday," said a bachelor 
brother of the lady; "but, since the boys left the nursery, 
there 's no comfort at the house, so I dine at my club, and drop 
in after the imps are asleep." Disregarding this dismal view 
of things, I went one day to dine at Sally's, as her note said, 
"to meet informally two other friends whose ideas I know will 
prove congenial." On the occasion specified, I had no oppor- 
tunity to find out whether they had any ideas or not; and I 
have since made up my mind that the bachelor uncle was not 
too severe. Hereafter, when I dine at the H's, may it be 
"formally." Four well-dressed, bright-looking boys made 
their appearance as dinner was announced. They scuffled into 
their seats, and all four immediately entered into a brisk dis- 
cussion with reference to a pair of rabbits, which lasted through 
the soup and fish, when a brief respite ensued, owing to their 



CRUELTY FROM CHILDREN. 367 

steady application to roast turkey. During the ''cutting up" 
process, I received numerous thrusts from the elbows of my 
two vigorous young neighbors, with an occasional splash of 
gravy by way of variety, or an arm reaching across me to 
secure some desired article of food which the waiter could not 
at that moment hand. Conversation among the elder mem- 
bers of the party had hardly begun, when it was interrupted 
by a question from one boy, which drew forth violent opposi- 
tion from the other three, and with the exception of " five 
minutes for refreshments" which the quartette allowed them- 
selves for ice-cream, they kept the ball going till we rose from 
table. On entering the parlor, the attention of the guests was 
demanded to decide on the respective merits of two postage- 
stamp albums, and requests for stamps now poured forth with 
startling rapidity and perseverance. Eight o'clock came, the 
nominal bed-time for the two younger torments. They argued 
and resisted, however, and before the point was settled, the 
two other guests, who had a second engagement, took their 
leave. When the boys finally did go to bed, and quiet was 
restored, Mrs. H. asked me if I thought her boys were worse 
than other people's. Returning a guarded answer, which I 
fear was not wholly re-assuring, she said: ''I never let them 
do anything wrong, and, really, if I undertook to discipline 
those boys with their different natures, it would leave me no 
time for anything else." I did not argue the matter. 

I have about given up going to matinees, on account of the 
immense amount of school-girl gabble to which I am compelled 
to listen, instead of the entertainment for which I purchased my 
ticket. If the gabble should stop, it is only to be superseded 
by munching of candy and suppressed giggling. If girls must 
go through the vealy age, let them undergo it at home, and 
not invade the domains of the pubHc. 

Let me suggest that if the public met with more consid- 
eration, life would be made much more pleasant to children. 
I know those who never enter a place of amusement except 
when accompanied by little faces, whose bright eyes fail to see 
aught but the beautiful. I could tell of many a drive and 



368 HOME TOPICS. 

picnic postponed till Saturday or vacation gave the children a 
chance to go. But they were children whose parents recog- 
nized the public, and upheld their rights. I could also name 
several libraries, picture-galleries, greenhouses, and museums, 
whose treasures never unfold themselves to children, because 
the little fingers are so rarely taught not to touch. Most chil- 
dren love music. Witness the crowd around a grinding organ, 
even when unattended by the attractive monkey. Yet, how 
many children does any one know whom she would risk 
inviting to a nnisicale? 

I cannot say I wholly agree with the man who thought a 
boy should be brought up in a hogshead, and fed through the 
bunghole, for I doubt not that on being released the wild ox 
of the desert would be a more desirable companion; but I do 
think that parents should so bring up their offspring that no 
one should have occasion to make the suggestion. Yet many 
of us feel with and for the sufferer who said his sister followed 
to the letter one Bible injunction with regard to children, 
namely: *' Forbid them not." 



DOMESTIC ETHICS. 

IT is a sad but a terribly common thing, whether in material 
or spiritual forces, to waste power. Whatever be true 
in the physical world, we see this waste going on in moral 
dynamics every day and all about us. In religious asceticism, 
for instance, what a wondrous amount of laudable but barren 
effort, self-denial, perseverance, and all heroic virtues has been 
laid' out by ill-judging saints in denying themselves essentially 
innocent comforts or i^leasures, or forcing themselves to as 
essentially useless or hurtful practices. The evil is the greater 
when it attacks our forming period, and perverts not only our 
habitual actions but the underlying tendencies and' mental tone 



DOMESTIC ETHICS. 369 

which shape them. It is of the last importance, in early train- 
ing, to get all the moral force of the growing character concen- 
tered on vital distinctions and essential rights and wrongs. 
No energy should be wasted in changing the accommodation 
power, so to speak, of our mental vision, and magnifying mat- 
ters of mere convention or accidental relation into inherent 
duties. Yet this is what we do every day with our own chil- 
dren. Setting aside the radically false or foolish tendency of 
much of the theoretically religious and ethical teaching of the 
home circle, — due to mental limitation or moral perversity on 
the part of the elders, — there is still grave fault to be found 
with a great many very virtuous and right-thinking parents. 
The artificial tone of modern life has introduced an artificial 
standard into domestic ethics. Very rare is the family whose 
sliding scale of duties, especially for the young folks, is rad- 
ically healthy and rational, whose system of obligation and 
merit, reward and punishment, is not sadly conventional and 
modeled for the most part on a mere regard for the personal 
and material convenience of the family. The consequence is, 
that little and in themselves unimportant things get raised fac- 
titiously to the rank of grave moral virtues or faults ; really 
important tendencies or phenomena get neglected or winked 
out of sight. The worst of it is, that the very outcroppings of 
youthful temperament which are the most normal and promis- 
ing, if rightly directed, are often most apt to get nipped in the 
bud and parentally clapper-clawed because they interfere with 
the convenience of older people. Baby Anna — restless, pry- 
ing, merry, delightful httle midget! — is at this moment busily 
occupied in hauling out all my papers from a drawer of my 
desk, and presently, her curiosity satisfied in this direction, 
will give a tug at books, or table-cloth, or something which will 
make wreck of my writing apparatus and illustrate Hood's idea 
of ** the source of the Niger" with a spilt inkatand on the 
parlor carpet. If I am a blockhead, I shall scold and perhaps 
punish the evil-doer. Good sense will bid me wipe up the 
spot, and pick up the papers, thankful and cheerful for the 
strong vitality which fills all the little limbs with happy life, 
24 



370 HOME TOPICS. 

and for the active, observant temperament which, God wilUng, 
shall some day make her a blessing to her children, her 
dependents, her readers, or her fellow-laborers in all good 
works. Neddie has just come home with shockingly muddy 
boots, gained in racing "'cross lots" on the way from school, 
and a woful rent in his trowsers from shinnying up the apple- 
tree in the front yard. Mamma's neat soul is outraged at the 
one, and the parental pocket aches at thought of the *'V" 
needed to make good the other. But what shall we care about 
boots and trowsers when the full-grown lad is winning honor 
and doing his duty on Western plains, tracing iron arteries 
through the heart of the continent, or seeing God's wonders 
face to face on the dizzy crests of the sierras ? 

On the other hand, how much of petty vanity, or mean- 
ness, or sensuality, or trickery, or malice, or sloth, either gets 
entirely passed over in the little people's training, or assumes 
some shape so pleasing to the parental heart as to w^n actual 
praise and reward. And how often do we find others — how 
often are we ourselves — wise enough to take absolute stand- 
points and broad views, and praise or punish according to that 
which is really good or hurtful for the youngster's nature, and 
not merely for our own pitiful comfort, vanity, or convenience? 



FRIGHTENING CHIIDREN. 

THE greatest difficulty in the way of properly rearing 
children is that their elders forget that they were ever 
children themselves. Parents, with all their love and tender- 
ness, are often so unmindful of the extreme sensibility of their 
offspring, th^t they think to amuse by frightening them. This 
is like tickling them with a needle ; it is all pain and no pleas- 
ure. Because a fright is intended to be a joke, it is no reason 
that it is so understood, especially by the little folks, who are 
altogether literalists. 



CHILDREN AND MONEY. 37I 

Nothing can be worse for a child than to frighten it. The 
effect of the scare it is slow to recover from : it remains some- 
times until maturity, as is shown by many instances of morbid 
sensitiveness and excessive nervousness. 

Not unfrequently, fear is employed as a means of discipline. 
Children are controlled by being made to believe that some- 
thing terrible will happen to them ; are punished by being shut 
up in dark rooms, or by being put in places they stand in 
dread of No one, without vivid memory of his own child- 
hood, can comprehend how entirely cruel such things are. We 
have often heard grown persons tell of the suffering they have 
endured, as children, under like circumstances, and recount the 
irreparable injury which they are sure they then received. No 
parent, no nurse, capable of alarming the young is fitted for 
her position. Children, as near as possible, should be trained 
not to know the sense of fear, which, above everything else, is 
to be feared, in their education both early and late. 



CHILDREN AND MONEY. 

MOST persons seem to believe that children, even after they 
have reached an age of intelligence and discrimination, 
should not be trusted with money ; that those who are so 
trusted are almost invariably ruined. More harm is done, in 
our judgment, by an exactly contrary course. If children — 
at least when they are fairly out of leading-strings — are not 
allowed to have small amounts of money, how can they pos- 
sibly learn its proper use ? Wise spending is the result of 
experience, instead of theory, even with grown persons. How, 
then, should the merest youngsters learn to use sixpences and 
shillings steadily withheld from them ? 

Human nature is always benefited by a sense of responsi- 
bility, and children are by no means an exception. So long as 
they are deprived of money, they can have no clear idea of its 



372 HOME TOPICS. 

value, and, later in life, when they begin to get some, they very 
naturally waste it, in order to make up for their early depriva- 
tion. A boy should be allowed to buy his own tops, marbles, 
and skates, instead of having them bought for him. In this 
way he will enjoy them more, and have a more thorough 
appreciation of them. If he makes a mistake, chooses a bad 
top, or imperfect marbles, or poor skates, do not replace them 
with such as he would like ; but let him use those of his 
own selection till he has the money to buy others. Next time 
he will know what not to buy, will be more careful in deciding, 
and will have gained a desirable feeling of self-dependence. It 
is, perhaps, a little hard for tender parents to compel children 
to abide their own mistakes. The rule seems harsh ; but the 
world is so infinitely harsher a school than any home can be, 
that, for ultimate good, present pain may be endured. 

Children accustomed to money in moderation have little, 
if any, temptation to get it by improper or dishonest means. 
It then ceases to bear the attraction of forbidden fruit, or to 
appear to their ardent fancy as if all happiness were included 
in its power of purchase. Are not the boys who pilfer, or 
carry from the household anything they can turn into cash, fre- 
quently those who have been impelled to it by a scant allow- 
ance of pocket-money from parents to whom it would have 
been a trifle ? With legitimate indulgence they very soon 
learn that a shilling is worth but a shilling, and that a dollar is 
only a dollar ; that, badly used, one or the other will bring dis- 
comfort as well as pleasure ; and this lesson cannot fail to be of 
permanent benefit to them. The boy who has learned to use 
sixpences judiciously while he is ten or twelve, will be pretty 
apt to understand the proper value of dollars before he is out 
of his teens. 



OTHER people's BIRTHDAYS. 3/5 

OTHER PEOPLE'S BIRTHDAYS. 

MY DEAR : There is a great deal of truth in one 
remark in your last letter. There is danger that, where 
so much is done to amuse children and make them happy, 
they will grow up selfish and exacting. Here is one of the 
defects of an American training. 

Everything is made so easy and pleasant for our young 
people that they take it for granted that the world was made 
principally that they might have a good time in it, but never 
feel the least responsibility about making a good time for any- 
body else. Even the path to the school-room is made so 
smooth that they feel impatient and almost angry when they 
encounter a real difficulty. They do not practice self-denial 
enough themselves to appreciate it in other people. The last 
year's bonnet and worn glove-tips of the returned missionary 
lady awaken only a good-natured contempt in the mind of the 
thoughtless girl, whose mother has never allowed her to look 
shabby, and who thinks, if anybody else does, it is because 
they don't know any better. 

Our American life tends in this direction. To get all the 
enjoyment possible out of life, without very much thought 
whether anybody else gets any pleasure or comfort in return, 
is the main-spring of too many lives. We need to watch our- 
selves, lest, in our desire to give our children a sunny child- 
hood, we forget to teach them how to make other people's 
lives sunny. Always to receive and never to give is as bad for 
children as for grown people. To be sure, there is not much 
they can do, and what they can is worth very little in itself, 
but just because it develops a generous thoughtfulness for 
others, encourage them in all their little plans for other 
people's pleasure. 

Children are naturally generous, and delight to make and 
give presents, until they see their gifts considered as rubbish. 
Probably they are, but a great deal of love can be put into 
very common things. You keep thew birthdays. Encourage 
them to remember the birthdays of the older members of the 



374 HOME TOPICS. 

family, even if their celebrations are troublesome and their 
presents useless. In the family festivals, let them have some- 
thing to do for somebody else. Do not let the doing always 
be on your side. 

Whatever tends to make our family life purer and stronger 
is doing the best and noblest service for society. 

Here we must look for our strongest bulwark against the 
rising tides of evil that beat against our social system. We 
women listen to the growl of the storm in other countries; we 
tremble for our own, and feel so useless and insignificant! 

Brave little Holland keeps the whole mighty Atlantic at 
bay with her dikes of commonplace earth and stones and 
turf — mere every-day material. Take courage, weary mother. 
Your life may seem to you not much more than a dreary 
grind, day after day, to supply the physical wants of your 
children; but if they grow up to love and honor you because 
you deserve their love and honor — if they go out from you 
to build up other homes like the one you have made to them 
the purest and sweetest place on earth, you have built a few 
rods of dike over against your own house, and so have built, 
not for yourself alone, but for all society — not for to-day alone, 
but for all time. Mary Blake. 



CHILDREN'S NERVES. 

ON the street, the other day, we saw a fretful mother 
roughly shaking and chiding, for "being so cross," a 
sensitive child, who shrank in nervous terror from the harsh 
blast of a toy trumpet, sounded in his ear by a jolly little 
urchin, w^ho evidently had intended to give pleasure, not pain. 
The frightened child, with pale face, trembhng lips, and 
pathetic little suppressed sob, struggled manfully to conquer 
his nerves and his wounded heart. ''Cross" was clearly the 
very last word that should have been applied to the suffering 
little fellow, whose nerves were set a-tremble for at least one 



CHILDREN'S NERVES. 375 

whole day — not so much by the shock of the discordant blast, 
which a few kind words might have soothed away, as by the 
subsequent rough handling and rougher tones of his mother, 
and by his own very great effort at self-command. 

Of course, the cruelty of this mother was unconscious, but 
not, on that account, much the less culpable. It should be the 
business of those who have the care of children, not only to 
see that they have proper food and clothing, but also to study 
their characters, dispositions, and nerves. Notwithstanding 
the attention that scientific physicians are now paying to the 
nervous system, we cannot yet expect to know the reasons 
why a noise, an odor, a touch, that is innocuous to most, to a 
few may cause terror, or pain, or faintness, or death. Yet, by 
observation, we may find out what affects unpleasantly the 
nerves of the child intrusted to our care, and, by avoiding as 
far as possible exposing it to the cause of its nervous fears or 
irritation, and by gently soothing it when such exposure is 
unavoidable, gradually inure its nerves to bear with fortitude 
the painful excitement. 

In this way we have known nervous antipathies to be over- 
come when a contrary course would have produced serious 
consequences — perhaps even death. 

A little girl whom we knew was thrown almost into con- 
vulsions at the sight of a cat or a dog. The parents would 
not allow either animal to be about their premises; and, with 
equal good sense, would never permit the child's terrors to be 
spoken of in her presence. If, by chance, one of the obnox- 
ious animals approached her, she was always taken up, as if by 
accident, and her attention diverted. After a time, she gained 
courage enough to look at the causes of her terror, when their 
beauties and good qualities were pointed out to her, though 
she was never asked to touch them. Now the child has grown 
to be a young woman, conspicuous for her fondness for all 
animals, and especially for dogs and cats. Had her parents 
abruptly attempted to make her conquer her antipathy, its 
impression would, in all probability, have been so deepened 
that she could never have risen above it. In a similar case, 



3/6 HOME TOPICS. 

of which we have been told, the child died in convulsions, 
induced by being compelled to touch a horse, the object of its 
nervous terror. On the other hand, by weakly humoring such 
fears, talking about them in the presence of those subject to 
them, and thus allowing or leading their minds to dwell upon 
them, the unfortunates may be all their lives subject to the 
bondage of an unreasoning terror. 

A striking instance of the danger of disregarding a nervous 
dread is related in the memoir of Charles Mayne Young. A 
young gentleman had been appointed attache to the British 
Legation at St. Petersburg. On his arrival at that capital, he 
was congratulated by the embassador on being in time to 
witness the celebration of a grand fete, and invited to accept 
in the great church a seat among those reserved for the 
ambassadorial party. Though, in such cases, an invitation is 
equivalent to a command, the attache begged to be excused. 
Being pressed for his reasons, he gave them with much 
reluctance. 

" There will be martial music," he said, '' and I have an 
insuperable objection to the sound of a drum. It gives me 
tortures that I cannot describe. My respiration becomes so 
obstructed that it seems to me that I must die." 

The embassador laughed, saying that he should esteem him- 
self culpable if he allowed his attache to yield to a weakness 
so silly, and commanded him to be present at the fete. 

On the day appointed, all were in their places, when sud- 
denly was heard the clang of martial music and the beat of 
the great drum. The embassador, with ironical smile, turned 
to see the effect upon the '* young hypochondriac." The poor 
fellow was upon the floor, quite dead. On a post-mortem 
examination, it appeared that the shock to his finely strung 
nervous organization had caused a rupture of one of the valves 
of the heart. 

If, then, as we see, the adult, with every reason for sub- 
duing nervous antipathies apparently so unreasonable and 
ridiculous, finds it impossible to do so, how can a little child 
be expected to control or explain them ? 



WEANING THE BABY. 37/ 

WEANING THE BABY. 

*' "Y/'ES, I know I ought to wean her." How many mothers 
X say this, and say it with a sad consciousness that they 
are neglecting a duty to themselves and the child by putting 
off the evil hour — the mother-heart shrinking from what she 
feels must be pain to her darling. With tender prescience she 
sees the week of weeping and baby agony she will have to 
encounter. And so time goes on, and the child, who should 
have been weaned at between nine and twelve months, is 
unweaned at fifteen — indeed, among working- women I have 
known them to be unweaned at two years ! 

Of course there are babies and babies — it may not be pos- 
sible to prescribe a rule for all cases ; the best age for wean- 
ing baby may come just as it is suffering from some infant 
trouble, in very hot weather, on the eve of a journey — a 
dozen things, in short, may make it advisable to defer the 
time ; but, for healthy children, there is no age at which wean- 
ing is so easy to mother and child as from nine to twelve 
months of age, and the later it is after such age the more 
difficult. 

Yet, need it be such a painful time ? I think not. I know 
that in the case of a healthy baby, accustomed to being nursed 
at regular hours, there actually need be no trial to the child, 
provided the mother has patience and firmness, — not even a 
tear. Foolishly fond mothers, who have used nature's food as 
a solace for every woe, will not perhaps find a tearless wean- 
ing possible ; but I write for those tenderly wise ones who 
have observed as regular hours for baby's meals as for their 
own ; or, for those about to become mothers. To these last I 
would say, — as you value your baby's health and comfort, 
your husband's ease, and your own nerves, begin with the first 
day and accustom the baby to nurse only at certain hours. 

Infants have no natural depravity, no inevitable tendency 
to squall and rage ; yet so renowned are they for their exploits 
in that way, that many men smile cynically — and fathers of 
families, too — at the mention of a "good baby." Nay, moth- 



3/8 HOME TOPICS. 

ers of babies who make their Hfe a weariness to them have 
been known to smile pityingly at the parents of a happy, sleep- 
ful child, attributing the restlessness of their own tormentor to 
its superior organization ! 

Cleanliness, order, and punctuality are the mother's 
charms ; with these, and plenty of fresh air, most healthy chil- 
dren will sleep twenty out of the twenty-four hours for the 
first three months of their being. 

I would here say, be very careful of waking a sleeping 
child ; one authority says, never do so unless the house is on 
fire. Accustom it to go to sleep on its bed ; lay it down 
immediately after nursing from the first, and you will never 
find it necessary to rock it to sleep. 

A newly born baby will require food oftener than when 
older; but constitutions difTer so much that it is best to consult 
your doctor as to the number of meals it will require during 
the day, and then adhere strictly to his rules. This point is so 
often neglected, or, the necessity for some rule for feeding 
being acknowledged, it is so often considered time enough to 
begin **w^hen baby gets older," when it is a difhcult matter to 
break habits formed, that, for the sake of mother and child, it 
cannot be too strongly urged. Physicians say, half the colicky 
babies are made so during the first month of their life, by the 
old school of monthly nurses or foolish mothers overfeeding 
them, or keeping them so warm that every breath of fresh air 
afterward chills them. 

As the child gets older, gradually diminish the number of 
meals, letting it, however, take as much food as it cares for at 
each one, until at six months it has but four meals during the 
day from its mother and one at night. At that age it is well 
to begin feeding with a little oatmeal porridge, or prepared 
barley food ; begin with a tea-spoonful, gradually increasing 
the quantity till, at nine months or thereabouts, it will take a 
hearty meal of it. Of course, every mother must be guided 
by the constitution of her child in the choice of food, for one 
child will starve on what another will thrive on; but avoid feed- 
ing entirely, or even principally, on corn-starch. The best hour 



WEANING THE BABY. 379 

for giving this extra food will also depend on circumstances. 
A good plan is to nurse the baby at eight A. M. and at noon, 
at four and at seven P. M.; and at ten A. M. give the oatmeal 
or barley gruel. The first step in weaning will be to break 
off one meal. The four-o'clock meal is the best to wean 
from first : when the baby comes in from its airing, a cup of 
warm food may be ready for it. It is well, if convenient, for 
the mother to disappear the first time the substitution is made. 
Wait a week before weaning from a second meal ; then break 
off the noon nursing in the same way, having the food quite 
ready when baby comes in hungry. In mild weather, the 
young child should be out every sunny hour of the day ; mod- 
ern carriages enable it to sleep as restfully as in bed. Let it 
get quite used to this change before proceeding to another. 
The weaning from the evening meal it is best to leave till last. 
When it becomes time for this, give simply as much warm new 
milk as the child cares to take, then put it to bed as usual. 
There is now but the night nursing left. This may be broken 
off by giving a cup of warm milk the moment it wakes, for a 
few nights, gradually decreasing the quantity till it will no 
longer wake for it, but sleep till morning, when it is well to 
give it as much milk as it wants. This may seem a slow and 
tedious plan in the telling, but it is not so in practice ; to a 
tender-hearted mother, it is at all events preferable to the week 
of tears and struggles that follows weaning by the short and 
sharp method. 

One word more about feeding the baby. By giving its 
meals at certain hours and those only, one meal has time to 
digest before another is taken. You thus avoid a fruitful 
cause of colic. A baby, too, who is fed regularly ©nly craves 
food at certain times, and then it will take a hearty, satisfying 
meal, while one nursed every half-hour is ever craving and 
restless ; its stomach cannot digest the food so constantly 
introduced, and crying, wakefulness, and general misery are 
the result. There will be plenty of elderly women, mothers 
of large families, to tell you that you can't bring a baby up 
by book, and that you must feed it when it is hungry. And 



38o HOME TOPICS. 

it is hard for a weak young mother, with her one Httle lamb, 
to set her opinion against that of an elderly matron with 
half a dozen grown children to attest her motherly success. 
It is hard to do this, even when they tell you, as one 
such mother told me, that nothing but *' Winslow's Soothing- 
syrup" saved the lives of all her children! Another point, 
which will have much to do with baby's comfort and your 
success in effecting the " weaning without tears," is that it shall 
not have been rocked to sleep. 

I never had any trouble — and never met with any one 
who had — in making babies go to sleep in bed instead of in 
the arms, when they have been so laid down from the first. 
Never accustom a baby to a quiet house or a darkened room 
when it sleeps; let everything go on just as usual — talking, 
laughing, music; it will sleep through all. Who has not been 
met at the door of a room with a finger on the lip, a '' Hush ! 
Baby 's asleep," and seen the wretched father on tiptoe, afraid 
almost to rustle his paper? However easy it may be to secure 
quiet, is it worth while, for a false idea of necessity, to make 
your husband a martyr, your visitors and friends victims, to 
baby ? 

So it is with baby putting itself to sleep ; it may appear 
very unnecessary for it to do so to the young mother with 
plenty of time on her hands, and plenty of love to lavish on 
the sweet little thing. What so pleasant as to sit and watch 
it as you rock, slowly drifting into dream-land ! To have her 
baby in her arms is a delight to a tender mother, and if 
she were sure of having but the one, perhaps she might 
safely indulge herself; but most women have household affairs 
to attend to during the day, and in the evening the child's 
father — unimportant a member of the family as he may have 
become since baby's advent — will still be more happy if his wife 
can spend her evenings with him cozily, as in early married 
days, than if she is upstairs from seven to nine, rocking, walk- 
ing, singing to the little Moloch above. For be sure baby will 
abuse its privileges, and instead of quietly dropping off to sleep 
in a few minutes, as it would if put snugly into bed, it will have 



MUSIC AND DRAWING AT HOME. 38 1 

wide open, sleepless eyes for at least an hour or two; then 
every time it wakes — and children so used wake pretty often 
— the same rocking and singing process must ensue, and soon 
the poor young mother's life is a long weariness. But it is 
when another little one comes that the training of the first 
becomes a matter of importance. Those who do not believe in 
good babies — that is to say, in healthy, happy ones — good- 
ness in a baby means comfort — will tell you that, with all the 
care and punctuality in the world, babies will be cross: I have 
not found it so, but I have found that the outrageous, cross, 
sleepless children are those who are rocked and carried about, 
and for whose pacification the whole house caters. 



MUSIC AND DRAWING AT HOME. 

A MOTHER writes to us : *' Our income is so limited that 
every dollar weighs full weight in the year's expenses. 
Under these circumstances, would you advise that our girls 
should be taught music and drawing ? The boys have received 
college educations." To which we reply that the decision 
must depend on the individual girl. Unfortunately, the indi- 
vidual girl has very little to do with the course of her' parents, 
in regard to her education, if she happen to live in a small 
inland town or farm neighborhood. Life and action in these 
places are, as a rule, governed by universal custom rather than 
by practical personal reasons. The mysterious power called 
*' fashion," or ''style," governs not only the clothes, but the 
daily habits and doings of the inhabitants of a small town 
much more arbitrarily than those of a city. We wish we had a 
voice strong and penetrating enough to reach every family in 
such classes, and show them the folly of this herding together 
in small matters like a flock of unreasoning sheep. The farmer 
or small shop-keeper judges for himself in business matters. 



382 HOME TOPICS. 

but he eats, dresses, and lives after the fashion set by the 
squire ; and his httle daughter must go through the same train- 
ing as the squire's heiress, or lose caste. '' College educa- 
tions," in such cases as often these are, grow at great sacrifice 
to the parents, not because the boy is especially fitted to 
receive a classical training, nor because it will better fit him 
to be a helpful citizen of the world, but because "it is a step 
upward," — it is " more genteel." As to the effect of the col- 
legiate training, we have nothing to say ; we only quarrel with 
the motive of giving it. Precisely the same motives apply to 
a girl's so-called accomplishments. In countless towns, the 
acquisition of the proper rank in gentility involves the necessity 
of ''piano lessons" for the girls. The instrument is bought 
after much saving and stinting in other matters. Nelly is 
brought, through sore tribulation, to hammer out a half-dozen 
dashing marches or waltzes, and that is the end of it. After 
she marries, she neither plays for her own pleasure nor for her 
husband's, and she is not competent to teach her own daughter. 
But the piano is there, a big assertant token of social rank. If 
any such ambition as this urges our correspondent, we can only 
assure her that no greater outlay can be made of money or 
time for such small reward. If a girl or boy evince decided 
musical ability, or ability, indeed, of any kind, let no money, 
labor, or time be spared in its culture. It is, perhaps, their one 
weapon, — their one expression, — the magnetic cord with which 
they will be brought into relation with the world. But let it 
be trained and encouraged just the same, whether it be a gen- 
teel talent for music or drawing, or the more ignoble skill in 
type-setting, carving, sewing, or cookery. Find what material 
is actually in your boy or girl, and make the best of that. 
Don't model them after your own idea. Many a financier was 
berated as stupid, when a boy, because he could not mas- 
ter Horace or Homer. Many a brilliant woman remembers a 
youth neglected and solitary, when she disappointed a mother 
because she could not rival the town belles in pretty little 
accomplishments. "Can you purr?" said the cat to the ugly 
duck. "Then, of what use arc you in the world ?", The fact 



INTELLIGENT CHARITY IN CHILDREN. 383 

is, however, that most mothers are on the lookout to find swans 
in their ugly ducklings. Genius is not likely to be overlooked 
in any American household. It is the dull, ordinary boys, the 
matter-of-fact, homely girls, who need to have their education 
carefully guarded. If it will please or soothe the woman in 
lonely or sorrowful days to thrum her Httle airs, or sing her 
little songs, all success to her and her ''piano lessons." But, 
in heaven's name, not a note for the sake of gentility ! If she 
have expertness of fingers, but no imagination, shall she not 
be taught to draw because she never can be a Raphael ? She 
may design posters and bill-heads, and earn a comfortable 
meal thereby, some day, for her children. 



INTELLIGENT CHARITY IN CHILDREN. 

^/^OUR little article, entitled " Children's Pennies," has just 
X attracted my attention. It is sadly true that the usual 
ways in which children are taught to give their alms have an 
unhappy, instead of an elevating, influence upon them. The 
mission-money in the Sunday-schools is given Avith little or no 
sense of personal interest or deprivation. 

I take my little four-year-old girl down to a place where a 
few of us have been for some years engaged in a loving work 
of mercy, in caring for sick and friendless women, and little 
babies. Her blue eyes open wide at the sight — babies in the 
crib, babies on the floor, babies in arms, babies everywhere, 
and all of them little waifs, who cannot know a mother's care, 
save such as we try to spare them from our own little ones in 
our more blessed motherhood. The parcel of clothing, or the 
little toy, is put in her hands to leave with them, and already 
she feels her little heart swelling with love and sympathy for 
those she is helping, because she sees them, and sees the use 
made of her little gifts. 



384 HOME TOPICS. 

THE BEGINNER IN JOURNALISM. 

THE local staff of a city newspaper shows in a measure and 
in one direction what a beginner's opportunities are. Most 
of its members are young and ambitious, and while the ** city 
department," as their particular branch of the profession is 
called, requires a special order of abilities and is not elementary 
or tentative in its nature, its functions are such that it is very 
well fitted to give the aspirant a practical view of what is before 
him, and to enable him to test and develop his talents. The 
varied knowledge and experience he acquires, the familiarity 
Avith men and their arts, the introspection of life and the severe 
discipline, are of service to him throughout his career, no mat- 
ter how exalted his position may become, — whether it be that 
of the autocratic editor-in-chief, or that of the much humbler 
subordinate. 

A reporter need not have more than a common-school 
education ; for, though culture and literary power add to his 
chances of advancement (and without them he cannot, indeed, 
attain the best positions), they are not indispensable. The 
more essential qualifications consist in the prophetic sense of 
the passing events in which the public will be most interested, 
extreme simplicity and directness of statement, faithfulness to 
duty, a temperament that wall bear snubbing while an object is 
to be gained, and the utmost pertinacity. Short-hand is useful, 
but, except in large meetings, it is by no means so important a 
part of the equipment as the sense of news or the indefatigable 
industry which overcomes every rebuff and denial. Of course 
a certain facility of expression and picturesqueness of phrase 
are necessary ; but a polished style is not. The serviceable 
reporter is shrewd, practical, active, alert, and explicit, rather 
than profound in thought, critical in manner, or elegant in 
diction ; and if he possesses the former qualities he is sure to 
succeed in his own department, though (unless he comple- 
ments them with something more) he cannot rise above it. 

The principal morning papers of New York employ from 
twenty to thirty salaried men in gathering local news, and in 



THE BEGINNER IN JOURNALISM. 385 

addition to these a variable number of others are employed as 
"special" or ''space" men, — that is to say, their services are 
engaged and paid for at the rate of from seven to ten dollars 
for each column of matter printed. The ''specials " are recog- 
nized as members of the staff, and are usually probationers, 
who, when they have won their spurs, are put on a salary 
amounting to considerably less than the sum earned under the 
previous arrangement. In other words, when they show the 
capacity to do forty dollars' worth of work a week independ- 
ently, they are reduced to a salary of twenty-five dollars. The 
"specials" have every disadvantage; they are not assigned to 
duty until all the salaried men are disposed of, and the latter 
are so numerous that in many instances they leave few oppor- 
tunities for the former, who must either remain idle or discover 
news in the fortuitous quarters that have not been anticipated 
by the city editor. To be able to do this successfully implies 
the possession of tact, pluck, and fertile resources, without 
which the beginner, amid the crowd of competitors he meets in 
a metropolitan office, cannot earn his bread and butter. Most 
of the applicants for employment who seem to be of the 
proper sort are told that they may take their chances with the 
"special" staff, which, however good their credentials are, and 
no matter how brilliant their college record may be, is all they 
can expect. A salary is soon given to those who have the 
requisite qualities, as we have said, and those who have not 
linger about the office for a few weeks, and disappear. 

The writer remembers a mild-mannered youth who offered 
himself, without introduction or recommendation, to the city 
editor of an important New York daily — a youth who had 
already seen service in provincial offices, and who was very 
glad indeed when he was offered a chance on the "special 
staff." He appeared at the office every morning when the 
assignments were being made; now and then he was appointed 
to do some little service, and on one memorable occasion he 
was commissioned to describe the condition of the markets, in 
three-quarters of a column. Three-quarters of a column meant 
seven dollars, and so long an article would give him the oppor- 
25 



3^6 HOME TOPICS. 

tunity to display his abilities which he desired. The article 
was written, revised by the editor, and set in type ; it was quite 
acceptable. But at night, when the critical moment came, 
there was a great excess of matter; the article was cut down to 
a paragraph, and the paragraph was eventually left out of the 
paper. Although he gaVe all his time to the paper, his first 
week's earnings were less than five dollars. The second 
week's earnings were about seven dollars, and the third week's 
were lowest of all ; but after that they rose magnificently, and 
in the fifth week of his novitiate he was put into a regular 
position. 

We have mentioned this incident to show the disheartening 
circumstances that hedge in a beginner, and also to enforce the 
fact that the demonstration of his own capabilities is the best 
introduction he can possibly have. In a fairly conducted of^ce 
the graduates of the city department are selected to fill vacan- 
cies in the editorial staff, and the proprietors of newspapers in 
smaller cities often apply to the New York papers for men to 
take responsible and profitable positions. 

The machinery and operations of the metropolitan offices 
are so much more extensive than any others that we believe 
the training and experience a young man acquires in them are 
a great help to him; but, at the same time, he can become an 
excellent journalist without resorting to New York. Should 
he obtain a start on such a paper as the ''Springfield Republi- 
can," the *' Cincinnati Commercial," the "Boston Journal," or 
the "Chicago Tribune," he could qualify himself for all that the 
profession has to offer, and his chances of advancement would 
be superior, as the competition out of New York is not as close 
as it is in that city. There are editors who, like the late 
Samuel Bowles, take a personal interest in the young and 
promising members of their staff, and by kindly supervision 
and suggestion impart to them the fundamental principles of 
journalism, which are not too commonly understood. Mr. 
Bowles made his office a practical school, and his graduates 
reflect credit upon their teacher in the various positions to 
which they have risen. He once gave the writer a column of 



HOW TO BECOME A TELEGRAPHER, ETC. 387 

matter and told him to condense it; the column was reduced 
three-fourths, and he then reduced the remaining fourth to a 
paragraph of a few lines, which retained the pith and sense of 
the original with remarkable fidelity. 

A polite letter, stating the attainments and experience of 
the sender, will usually meet with a* response from the editor 
to whom it is sent, but it is always desirable for the candidate 
to present himself in person. A clever, sincere, and indus- 
trious fellow, who has real talent, will not have to beg for 
work long, though sometimes his patience may be heavily 
taxed and his hopes wearily deferred. If his pen is quick 
and his ideas are fresh, he may land over the heads of the 
mediocrity, which is the only material that stagnates in a good 
newspaper office. 



HOW TO BECOME A TELEGRAPHER, AN 
ENGRAVER, AN ARCHITECT 

IT is usually a sense of personal disappointment, rather than 
any better reason, which impels the practitioners of many 
professions to discourage those who seek information as to the 
prospects of a beginner. Few men, indeed, are so well satis- 
fied with their occupation that they are disposed to speak 
favorably of it, and in many instances they view it from 
the embittered stand-point of their own unrealized ambitions. 
''Don't let your boy be an architect; don't let him be an 
engraver; don't let him be a telegrapher. Choose some other 
employment for him; ours is hopeless." The unanimity of 
the discouragement is perplexing, and it is usually unjustified; 
for, while many occupations do not lead one to a competency, 
they at least insure a respectable livelihood for those who 
engage in them faithfully and industriously; and, though 
more brilliant things may be hoped for, a respectable liveU- 
hood, in the decline of life, is more than half the world obtains 



388 HOME TOPICS. 

for its labor. A special order of abilities, concentrated and 
exerted in a proper direction, are the essentials of substantial 
success, of course ; but there is much ability adrift in the world 
that is adaptive, and there are many boys who, not having" 
a ''call" to a particular profession, are willing to accept 
any situation that offers. No eminence can be attained in 
architecture or engraving without special abilities; immense 
executive ability is needed in the chiefs of the telegraph 
service. But the last generally requires a more common 
order of qualifications than the other two; and, though these 
three occupations are not in the least affinitive, I have 
embraced them in this paper, since a representative of each 
spoke to me deprecatingly of his profession without — it seems 
to me — sufficient cause. 

TELEGRAPHY. 

There are various schools of telegraphy in all large cities^ 
which advertise attractively for pupils and promise situations 
for their graduates. But all of these are repudiated by the 
managers of the telegraph companies and by practical oper- 
ators, who not only say that the schools have no influence 
whatever in procuring situations, but also that the training" 
they impart is of no real advantage. There is one exception, 
in the classes of the Cooper Union, which are instructed under 
the auspices and supervision of the Western Union Company. 
They are formed exclusively of women, and the tuition is 
entirely gratuitous. The graduates are taken into the employ 
of the company at salaries of twenty to twenty-five dollars a 
month. But the announcements of other schools, conducted by 
private persons, are misleading, and the fact that a young man 
has attended one would not add the least weight to his appli- 
cation for an appointment as operator. It is not that the 
knowledge of the instrument and its manipulation which he 
acquires is useless, although the practical application of it is 
very different from the theoretic study; but he is possessed by 
a sense of completeness which unfits him for the proper subor- 
dination of a beginner, and much that he has learned is an 



HOW TO BECOME A TELEGRAPHER, ETC. 389 

incumbrance, of which he must be relieved before he can 
adapt himself to the circumstances of a good operator. 

There are probably not less than twelve thousand operators 
in the United States, of whom nearly two hundred and fifty 
are employed in the main office of the Western Union; and 
the salaries paid range from twenty to one hundred dollars a 
month. Very few of them have attended schools of teleg- 
raphy, or had other instruction than that which they have 
''picked up" while performing other duties in telegraph offices. 
Many of them have been messengers, and have qualified them- 
selves for the higher position by studying the sounds of the 
instruments while waiting for assignments. Others have been 
office-boys, who learned in the same way — nearly every office 
in the country has a boy or two in tutelage. The most expert 
are almost invariably self-taught. Four perfect instruments 
are set apart in the operating department of the Western 
Union office for practice ; and, when the work of the day staff 
is over, at half-past five o'clock in the afternoon, any ambitious 
boy in the office may sit down at these and learn how to operate 
them. Having begun work at eight o'clock in the morning, 
he may not feel disposed for further exertion; but his advance- 
ment will depend on his persistence. The simplest letters soon 
become intelligible, and by degrees the tickings of the instru- 
ment are as coherent and fluent to him as print. While he is 
familiarizing himself with the instrument, he is also learning 
the technicalities and details of the office, and their reality 
impresses them in his mind, which w^ould not be the case were 
they nominal and fictitious, as in the so-called schools. When 
he can transmit and receive messages accurately, he is occa- 
sionally allowed to work on the less important wires during 
the dinner hour, or during an unusual pressure of business; but 
it is probably four or five years before he is classified as pro- 
ficient, and it is the opinion of Mr. Warner, the chief operator 
of the Western Union in New York, that not more than one 
person in ten who learns telegraphy ever ranks as a first-class 
hand. Entering the operating room, a boy is paid about 
twenty dollars a month, and his hours are from eight o'clock 



390 HOME TOPICS. 

in the morning till half-past five in the afternoon, with only 
a twenty minutes' intermission for lunch. In a year or two 
he may be worth forty dollars a month, and his promotion 
depends, of course, on the facility and accuracy which he dis- 
plays. There is no brilliant opportunity, no career of great 
promise ; but there is an occupation, with fair remuneration, 
to which many persons are adapted. Perhaps in the future 
women will supersede men as operators, and — overlooking the 
irregularity of their attendance when they are not quite well 
or the weather is stormy — the men with whom they are 
placed in competition and the chiefs of the service regard 
them favorably. Some of the former, who have families to 
place, show a disposition to let the girls become operators and 
to find other employment for the boys. But if, after learning 
telegraphy, a young man is diverted into another business, his 
ability to manipulate an instrument is likely to be serviceable 
to him. In journalism, in railway affairs, and in nearly all 
large commercial establishments, this accomplishment is avail- 
able, and it may help to advance him and secure an increase 
of salary. 

ENGRAVING. 

The extraordinary progress made in the graphic arts of 
late years, the multiplication of popular illustrated works and 
periodicals, the tendency of large firms and corporations to use 
pictures instead of letterpress in advertising their commodities, 
are trustworthy indications that the business of an engraver is 
now more than ever before a promising field for a beginner 
with an aptitude in that direction. But if we accept the state- 
ment of the engravers themselves, without an allowance for 
that sense of personal disappointment and weariness which 
we have previously spoken of, no occupation is so barren 
of inducements as this. They are more emphatic than the 
telegrapher, the architect, or the soldier in saying, " Don't put 
your boy to our trade; turn his footsteps in another direction." 
As a matter of fact, the standard of a successful engraver is 
higher now, and the necessary qualifications greater, than 



HOW TO BECOME A TELEGRAPHER, ETC. 39 1 

hitherto. Formerly, the office drudge, without education of 
any kind, and without any definite intelligence or aptitude, 
was allowed to practice at blocks in his spare hours ; and, by 
degrees, he acquired a certain mechanical facility that qualified 
him for a position in which he hacked out whatever beauty and 
softness the drawings intrusted to him had. He was the bane 
of artists, not having the capacity either to understand or to 
interpret them. But the art revival has compelled a change ; 
and, besides perspicacity and manual facility, the engraver who 
would succeed must have a knowledge of drawing and color, 
and a sympathetic understanding of the work submitted to him. 
For this reason, a young man ambitious of becoming an 
engraver should have some preliminary training in art, and, 
we might almost say, should be a finished draughtsman before 
he attempts the sister profession. But, even supposing that 
he has an education, that he can draw and has art sympathies, 
he must in most cases enter the office as a subordinate, and 
carry the burden of many profitless details before he is affiDrded 
an opportunity to develop in the direct line. He is received 
in the office as a boy, with a salary of three or four dollars 
a week. Eventually, superior equipment and intelligence will 
be recognized, and with ordinary talent one may obtain a 
lucrative and honorable position. The salary of an engraver 
is from twenty to fifty dollars a week, but a master hand of 
positive ability and experience commands four or five thou- 
sand a year. This profession is also adapted to women, and 
two or three have already acquired high rank in this country. 

ARCIHTECTURE. 

In architecture, which also is inauspicious in the opinion of 
its followers, the conditions are wholly different from either of 
the previously mentioned occupations. In such a country as 
this, where material progress at least is unintermittent, and 
where the most familiar expression of it is (generically speaking) 
in elaborate piles of brick and mortar, one would expect the 
architect to be a man of high prices and large profits, if not of 



392 HOME TOPICS. 

invariable good taste. But the few who are preeminent, who 
have influence, reputation, varied experience, and great ability; 
who have invested money, as well as other capital, in their 
businesses, do not often reach greater profits than ten or fifteen 
thousand dollars a year. Many more have much less, and the 
majority, who are fully qualified, but without capital or in- 
fluence, do not receive as large salaries as the practitioners of 
other professions who have relatively the same education and 
degree of talent. To enter an architect's office with a reason- 
able prospect of success, a boy must have definite abilities and 
a sound technical education, such as may be obtained at the 
Rensselaer Polytechnical Institute at Troy, the Sheffield Scien- 
tific School at New Haven, the University of Michigan, the 
Stevens Institute, or the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. 
Courses in architecture have also been introduced in Yale, 
Columbia, and the College of the City of New York. All of 
these schools provide suitable training; but the Massachusetts 
Institute devotes itself to the education of architects more 
than the others. It would be possible, of course, for a young 
man to find a situation in an architect's employ without the 
expensive preliminary education ; but the competition with his 
companions who possessed it would be so great that he could 
only succeed by desperately hard work and an uncommon 
order of abilities. The salary of a beginner is small, even 
when he has been graduated from a college or technological 
institute; but it is usually sufficient to support him, and after 
a few years it is increased to twenty or twenty-five dollars a 
week. 



ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION IN THE 
MECHANIC ARTS. 

IMMEDIATELY after a child has passed the destructive age, 
the age in which he breaks things in order to see what 
makes them go, he enters upon a period devoted to attempts 
to construct something. If he is so fortunate as to have kin- 



INSTRUCTION IN THE MECHANIC ARTS. 393- 

dergarten training, this inherent tendency is taken advantage 
of, and even in the common primary school some use is made 
of blocks and pencils ; but when the child passes into the 
grammar-school, what a dreary waste it seems to the active 
brain and the restless hand ! 

Is it not true that at the very age when manual dexterity 
can be most easily and surely attained, most children are 
removed from all opportunity to learn how to use their hands, 
except such chance as they have in playing marbles, peg-top, 
base-ball, and other games, and that they are set to work on 
purely mental exercises ? From the age of six or seven to 
fifteen or sixteen, are not most boys and girls confined five 
hours a day at mere head-work — the little variation that music 
and drawing have lately given being more than counterbal- 
anced by lessons out of school ? And, if a parent tries to 
keep his children out of the public mill, does he not find that 
his choice lies between a private school that is wholly given 
over to classical study, or one that serves as an asylum for 
incapables ? 

What child, of rich or poor parentage, is the worse for the 
possession of some degree of manual dexterity ? Who can tell 
when the child is ten years old what its position will be at 
twenty ? The changes in position, in this country, are reason 
enough why boys and girls alike should learn to use their 
hands, at least in the elementary way proposed in this paper. 
It has been observed that the active and restless boys who 
used to get flogged the most for truancy and mischief have 
often made the most capable men. Why was this ? Perhaps 
because playing truant required or developed some decision of 
character, and the mischief perpetrated often called for sagacity 
in planning and dexterity in execution. Their trained sagacity 
and dexterity have served them in later years, notwithstand- 
ing their truancy. 

But this is not the whole. The boy who can play well, and 
who is the leader in athletic and other sports, is so because he has 
trained his muscles and his hands to act readily under quick and 
intelligent mental direction. Are not these also the qualities 



394 HOME TOPICS. 

that make the skill of the handicraftsman ? In former days, be- 
fore machinery had been so widely applied to the necessary work 
of life, the faculties which had been partially developed by the 
boy in various games were, a little later, applied by the appren- 
tice to the handicrafts by which a livelihood was to be gained. 
Even the boys who went into business, no matter what their 
social position, were obliged to take their turn in building the 
fires, sweeping the lofts, opening the cases, packing the goods, 
and other arts not of a very high kind, indeed, but yet devel- 
oping that most invaluable quality which no other word can 
describe — " gumption." In place of the varied work that the 
mechanic apprentice, or the boy of the store, was formerly called 
upon to do, what substitutes have we found ? Such inadequate 
ones that it is a matter of common remark that the best work- 
men among the repair hands in the factories, whose work is 
of a varied kind requiring manual skill, are now almost all 
old men. 

In many trades where manual skill is required in finishing 
and assembling after the machine work has been done, the best 
hand-workmen are more and more from the continent of 
Europe, where manual labor still prevails to a greater extent 
than in England or in this country, and where there is an 
inherited capacity for skill in handicraft. We are training no 
American craftsmen, and unless we devise better methods than 
the old and now obsolete apprentice system, much of the per- 
fection of our almost automatic mechanism will have been 
achieved at the cost not only of the manual but also of the 
mental development of our men. Our almost automatic mills 
and machine-shops will become mental stupefactories. 

There is a better chance for women to retain their faculty 
of manual dexterity, because it has not yet been possible to 
apply machinery to the work of women in nearly so great a 
degree as it has been applied to that of men. 

This question of industrial training has lately received 
much attention from those who are attempting to reform our 
system of education, and to adapt it more fully to the necessi- 
ties of American life, but many of the proposed methods aim 



INSTRUCTION IN THE MECHANIC ARTS. 395 

too high. Elementary instruction in the inteUigent use of the 
hand itself must precede all attempts to apply the hand to 
specific trades. 

The Bureau of Combined Charitable Associations of Bos- 
ton is, at this very moment, attempting to find employment 
for large numbers of idle women. There is now, as there 
always has been, much complaint of the grievance of the poor 
sewing- women. On the other hand, the employers of women, 
especially of those who can sew, cannot find hands enough to 
do the work that is pressing to be done. It may be a hard 
saying, but it must be said — the poor sewing- women deserve 
no sympathy because of their poor wages — they are paid all 
that their work is worth; but they deserve the utmost sym- 
pathy because their hands have not been trained, when they 
were children, to do better work, and thus they might have 
become entitled to better pay. 

The idle who have health and strength deserve no sym- 
pathy because they can get no work, but the utmost sympathy 
for their want of capacity, or their want of opportunity to learn 
how to do the work that is now pressing to be done. In the 
last four or five years, there may possibly have been a little time 
when even capable men and women could not get work, — the 
writer doubts even that. But whatever has been the fact in 
these late years of extreme depression, it may now be safely 
asserted that the only reason for compulsory idleness of man 
or woman is incapacity to apply the hand to the work that is 
waiting for hands to do it. 

It is not true that machinery displaces the use of the hand, 
any more than that railroads diminish the demand for horses. 
It alters the conditions of such use. It compels in its attend- 
ance the use of the hand in a particular way. If the oppor- 
tunity to use the hand is confined to one machine, the hand 
never gains its true cunning, but it becomes a part of the 
machine itself; that is the real trouble. But the use of 
machinery creates abundance, and gives more time for instruc- 
tion. Children can now be spared for school who in olden 



396 HOME TOPICS. 

time would have been developing the cunning of the hand in 
hard work. Let them not lose their cunning; let us train their 
hands in easier and more effective methods than the arduous ones 
of old. If we do not compass this, of what advantage is the 
invention of machinery and its abundant product to the poor ? 

In what way shall we secure an adequate training of the 
hand for those who may never have an opportunity, except 
while they are in the common schools ? The instruction must 
be simple and inexpensive ; it must be such as will require but 
few tools and no machinery ; it must be within the scope of 
ordinary teachers, or, perhaps, of elder pupils, to direct ; and 
it must be done in the common school-house. May we not 
find in the work or play of common life some useful examples? 
It is said that most poor families now buy baker's bread. In 
the whole history of the wheat, from the time it is planted 
until the bread is eaten, the heaviest item of cost is the distri- 
bution of the loaves through the small shops that supply the 
poor. This is in the nature of things: the small shop, in which 
only a small traffic is done, must charge the highest profit in 
order to exist at all. The poor, therefore, pay the highest 
price for bread, and their children never see bread made. 
How shall elementary instruction in bread-making be given ? 
Is there not room in almost every school-house, or could not 
room be provided, for a stove ? — and may not a few pans and 
other implements be added to the school apparatus, as readily 
and as cheaply as many of the appliances now used ? A little 
saving in the attempts at decorative art in many school-houses 
in cities, and the application of the money to the purchase of 
a cooking-stove, and some pots, pans, and scales, would well 
serve the purpose. Cannot any skillful woman prescribe a 
course for twelve children, assuming that they do not even 
know the use of scales for weighing, however well they may 
have been taught the scales in the arithmetic ? 

Next, there is now a sharp demand for women or girls to 
make artificial flowers. What is elementary instruction in this 
art? Is it not first the application of the hand to the use of 
scissors ? How many children of the poor ever learn the art 



INSTRUCTION IN THE MECHANIC ARTS. 39/ 

of using scissors in cutting out paper dolls and paper dolls' 
dresses ? May not the foundation be laid in cutting paper 
into squares, into circles, into leaves, into flowers, and then in 
combining colored papers into forms — twelve pupils doing the 
same thing at the same time ? In this practice, a great deal 
of work might be done that would never be done in actual 
practice, because the forms would be cut with dies ; but the 
work is not the object, — the object is to train the hand and 
mind together while making paper flowers, and when the 
lessons are over and the rubbish is swept away, then the pupil 
is ready to begin to learn, and learn quickly, the trade of 
making flowers. Could the manufacturer trust his choice 
material to those whose hands had not learned the art of using 
scissors ? In connection with the instruction the art of com- 
bining colors could be taught, or it would be developed in 
those who had a natural gift or taste for such work. 

Again, let any one who is not accustomed to the work 
visit a hosiery factory, and he will pass from frame to frame 
with wonder at the mechanism. He will see but few working 
people in the main mill attending the machinery, but presently 
he will pass to the finishing and packing room, and there he 
will find a crowd of girls at work in shaping, making- up, 
finishing, packing, boxing, labeling, and preparing the stock- 
ings for the market. The art of packing is one that could 
be readily taught. How many people know how to pack a 
trunk ? There would surely be occupation for a considerable 
number of persons in our large city in packing the trunks, like 
the emballeiirs of Paris. 

Paper-box making can be made a medium for training the 
hand. The tools are few and inexpensive, the materials are 
cheap, the boxes would be of some use to the girls and boys 
who made them, and the hand would be trained. 

The art of doing up bundles should be learned. How 
many boys and girls are trained in making up a neat and com- 
pact parcel ? It is not a high art, but it is one that trains the 
hand. A half-hour spent every day for a few weeks in a com- 
mon school, in doing up sets of irregular wooden blocks into 



39^ HOME TOPICS. 

compact parcels, covering and tying them, would be time well 
spent. Give twelve children the same blocks, the same paper, 
and the same twine, and see which would excel. 

We used to teach children how to sew by making patch- 
work. Can we not make patchwork on cheap sewing- 
machines ? There is always a demand for experts in the use 
of the sewing-machine, at high wages, — but the employers 
cannot take time to instruct any but the very bright ones; 
their attention must all be given to the product for sale. What 
is elementary instruction in the use of the sewing-machine? 
Twelve cheap, strong machines, some spool cotton, and a lot 
of last year's pattern-cards of common calicoes, would serve 
the whole purpose. Patchwork to be made on the machine 
need be of no use except for a bed-spread. In making the 
patchwork the hand will be trained to the mechanism. The 
clothier can then begin to employ the pupil. 

If we try to teach the trades before the alphabet of the 
trades is learned, we shall fail. The alphabet of all the trades, 
without a single exception, consists of the ten fingers, the two 
eyes, and a fair power of observation. 

It would be interesting to see what would be the result of 
a year's course of instruction, in the afternoons, of a set of 
twelve children attending a grammar-school in the morning. 
Two months in weighing, measuring, kneading flour, and 
baking bread and crackers — all hand-work. Two months in 
cutting white and colored paper and combining forms — all 
scissors-work. Two months in cutting, pasting, and modeling 
pasteboard into boxes — hand and tools together. Two months 
in working calico scraps into patchwork, on ten-dollar sewing- 
machines — machine and hand combined. One room would be 
needed, and the tools and stock would be of little cost. 

Do not all boys covet a printing-press? Is not a course 
of printing-ink in the house as sure as the measles? Cannot 
type-setting be made to serve as a lesson in the use of the 
hand ? If boys could be taught to put a few of their own 
observations in type, it would be a better way of learning 
English than to study grammar at the mature age of twelve, 
when the very capacity to know what grammar really is is not 



INSTRUCTION IN THE MECHANIC ARTS. 399 

yet developed. Might not a single hand printing-press and a 
small quantity of large type serve a useful purpose? Give 
out a simple subject, or an object to be described, and let each 
of twelve boys set six lines of type. Assemble the twelve 
paragraphs and print in the hand-press in one form; then let 
each boy compare his text with the others. What would be 
the result? A lesson in the use of the hand, and a better 
method of composition than any that the grammars or readers 
contain, — far better than learning by rote the names of the 
parts of speech, or practicing what is called parsing. 

Wire- working would require very simple tools and inexpen- 
sive stock. The same is true of the making of willow-ware. 

Why should not the little girls in the primary schools learn 
the art of using scissors in cutting paper dolls and paper dolls' 
dresses by patterns of similar kind, that can be struck off on 
the lithogram without any appreciable cost, if the teacher has 
the least capacity to use a pencil? What would be the cost of 
stock in learning the alphabet of the milliner's art, if all idea 
of commercial value in the product were kept out of sight? 
Straw-plaiting is almost of necessity a handicraft. Not much 
leather, and that of little value, with a few hand-tools, would 
serve for the harness-maker's alphabet. If the aim is not too 
high, lace-making might readily be used to make girls' fingers 
answer quickly to many other purposes. 

Do we not aim too high in the consideration of industrial 
training ? It is not the fine art of needle-work that is required, 
but the common art of sewing. 

If drawing in the public schools was only taught as a fine 
art, if it was not almost the single exercise in handicraft now 
taught, it could not be defended at the public cost. But even 
in the direction of art, why should all our cheap jewelry be so 
bad when, for a few shillings each, Matlock and Torquay, in 
England, will furnish beautiful mosaics made like the Floren- 
tine, for which we have endless varieties of material ? It must 
be a simple handicraft, not difficult to learn. 

No money value is looked for from the work of the student 
who is learning a profession ; much less should it be looked 
for in the work of one who is preparing to learn a trade. The 



400 HOME TOPICS. 

professional man must learn first to concentrate the power of 
his brain, the machinist must first qualify himself to apply the 
power of his own hand. 

In the month of February, at the examination of the school 
of the Institute of Technology, the writer inspected the work 
of about a dozen boys who first began to learn the art of the 
blacksmith in October last. The whole time of their work, 
which had covered three lessons per week for four months, 
was equal to twelve full days' work of ten hours each ; the rest 
of their time had been devoted to study. The examples of 
their work laid out for examination and comparison consisted 
of a set of steel tools, forged, tempered, and finished, ready to 
be used in the course of instruction in metal-turning in which 
they are now engaged. 

May it not be claimed that this single example proves the 
whole case ? 

The elementary principles that lie at the foundation of all 
the trades can be taught with no more cost of appliances, no 
more expenditure of time, not so great an expenditure for sal- 
aries, as are now expended in what passes for mental training 
in schools that, to some extent at least, and in some cases, 
disqualify their graduates for the work to be done by them 
in order that they may gain a comfortable and a reputable 
subsistence. 

We have maintained the versatility of our people, and the 
power of adaptation to changing circumstances, up to this 
time, because our public school itself is a better educator than 
the instruction that is given in it. It is thoroughly democratic, 
and its influence is not yet exhausted ; but with the growth of 
dense population engaged in manufacturing, the wider separa- 
tion into classes of rich and poor, and the deadly monotony of 
many of the departments in our minutely subdivided manufact- 
uring and mechanical establishments, new and grave dangers 
are arising that must be met in the schools. If we do not 
develop in them the deft and cunning hand and the lissom 
finger, manual dexterity and handicraft will become lost arts 
to the majority of our people. 



PART VII. FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 



SPINNING AND WEAVING. 

\ HUNDRED years ago, in every farm-house and village 
IJL house all over New England, there was one thing, and 
one interest, that has vanished, and died out, and been super- 
seded. A thing that belonged to the girls ; and an interest 
and ambition that the girls grew up to. A pretty, picturesque 
thing, and a pretty feminine industry and emulation that can- 
not be replaced. 

It was the old spinning-wheel, with its light lines and its 
graceful treadle; as artistic a fireside ornament as a harp, and 
as suggestive of low, pleasant music, and quiet, restful moods. 
And the busy ambition was the spinning stores and stores of 
fine white wool and glistening flax, to make blankets and flan- 
nels, and beautiful bed and table linen; trying who, in her 
maidenhood, could lay by most, and smoothest, and fairest, 
against her matronhood. 

Every girl learned to draw the buzzing threads, and turn 

with quick, deft motion the whirling circle that twisted them so 

swift and firm; to step lightly to and fro beside the big one, or 

lean from her low seat to the spindle of the little flax-wheel, as 

26 



402 HOME TOPICS. 

the yarn or the thread drew out and in, in the twirling and the 
winding. And so, every girl was a "spinster," and kept on 
spinning, all her possible time, until she married, and took 
home to her husband's house, for years and years of thrifty, 
comfortable wear, the "purple and fine linen" she had made. 

You are spinsters now, every one of you. That is what the 
law calls you, until you are married women. And that is what 
life makes you, whether you will or no, — whether you like it 
or not. 

You can't get rid of it; though the spinning-wheels are 
dropping to pieces in the old garrets, and the great factories 
are thundering beside the rivers, to turn wool and cotton into 
all the cloth the great, hurried world needs; where no one any 
longer makes anything for himself, but makes or fetches — or 
catches hold and pretends to have a hand in fetching — some- 
thing in whole or in part for everybody else; that everybody 
else's work may come around to him, in the different kinds, as 
he w^ants it. All right; all inevitable. And yet you girls are 
spinsters, just as much as ever girls were. 

What a poor, slack, twisted, uneven thread you turn off, 
some of you ! What sleazy, unserviceable, fraying stuff it will 
weave into, — what rough, worrying garments it will make, and 
you will have to wear, one of these days, when you will begin 
to wish you had realized your spinsterhood, and minded better 
the distaff and the wheel. 

I suppose there is not one of you who does not think that 
"by and by" holds all things right and beautiful for you; 
things just as you would have them; an ideal self, such as you 
would be, in an ideal home, such as you will surely make, " if 
ever you have a house of your own." 

When things go criss-cross, — when your life discontents 
you, — when the old, and the tiresome, and the hindering, the 
threadbare and the every-day annoy and jar, — then you think 
of this house of your own, this time of your own, this life of 
your own, that are coming, in which shall be freshness, and 
satisfying, and things in your own way. You improve won- 
derfully upon your mother's fashions: you "never will have" 



SPINNING AND WEAVING. 403 

this, and you "always will have" that. Well, how is it to 
come about ? I will tell you one thing : you never will jump 
into it and find it ready made. 

It has got to be by your own spinning and weaving, now 
beforehand. You are getting your house and your home ready 
every day. By and by, well or ill plenished, you will have to 
live in it. Are you really laying up anything toward it, as the 
grandmothers made and laid by their sheets and their ** pillow- 
biers," and their pretty damask-patterned table napery, and 
saw them piling up in chest or on shelf, for the certain furnish- 
ing ? If not, do you want to know how to begin ? Are you 
willing to spin some little real thread every day ? You can. 
You can always be about it. You can be growing rich in 
things that will be actual comforts and providings, ready to 
your hand when you want them, and when you cannot get 
them up in a hurry at the moment's need. 

Everything you know how to do, that is done in a home, 
is something spun and woven and laid upon the store ; some- 
thing acquired for a life-time, that will last as those beautiful 
old linens used to last ; something that you will never have to 
spin and weave again. 

I do not mean something that you have done once, or once 
in a while, or that you think you know how ought to be done. 
I mean something that you have got at your fingers' ends, till 
it does not seem hard to you, or cost you the least toil of 
thought and anxiety. Something that you can handle as you 
handle your crochet-needle, or run your fingers up and down 
the piano keys, playing your scales. Something that you can 
do as you '*do your hair," or tie a bow-knot in your cravat; 
with turns and touches that you do not measure or think 
about, but have got so used to that the right thing comes of 
it, — the result that is nice and becoming, and full of a skillful 
grace that cannot be analyzed or got at by method or recipe, 
but that you have just grown into, forgetting how. 

The terror of housework, the terror of servantless interreg- 
nums, the toil and ache of things unaccustomed, the burden of 
care whose details are unfamiliar, — all these, with the break- 



404 HOME TOPICS. 

down of hope and strength that they bring-, are because of 
things left till that time you are dreaming of; threads unspun 
till the house-linen ought to be in the closet. You could n't 
tie a bow-knot without labor and worry ; you could n't make 
thim.ble and needle work together to take ten stitches, if you 
had done either thing just once or twice a good while ago, and 
not every day of your life for ever so long, — if you just knew 
the theory of the thing and had never put it to use. And 
every bit of a woman's work and responsibility in a home, 
when she takes it up as a strange thing, is like tying a bow- 
knot for the first time, or like sewing, or knitting, or crochet- 
ing to one who has never touched the implements before. 
When you think of trying one such task after another, day 
after day, in all the complex doing that *' housekeeping " 
implies, with your very living depending upon it all the while, 
you may well fancy how it is that American girls break down 
under the physical and mental strain that comes upon so many 
of them with that fulfillment of their happy hopes — the having 
and ordering a "house of their own." There is no help for it, 
but just the making all these things, in their knowledges, such 
parts of yourselves as the alphabet and the multiplication table, 
and the consciousness of the parts of the day, and week, and 
year, are ; things that have been used till they are like limbs 
and senses — natural furnishings that you feel as if you were 
born with. Then, you can take hold of life, and live. You 
have not got the whole way and method to invent for yourself 

And the best of all is, that one thing grasped in this way is 
the esseiitial grasped of a great many more. Every side of a 
honeycomb cell is the converse side of another; every row of 
knitting is half a stitch all along for the next row; in all kinds 
of building and making, that which is completed is already the 
beginning of the further structure. 

Begin with your own things and your own place. That is 
what your mother will tell you if you rush to her, enthusiastic 
with great intentions, and offer to relieve her of half her house- 
keeping. Don't draw that little bucket of cold water to have 
it poured back upon your early zeal. Reform your upper 



SPINNING AND WEAVING. 405 

bureau-drawer ; relieve your closet-pegs of their accumulation 
of garments out of use a month or two ago. Institute a clear 
and cheerful order, in the midst of which you can daily move ; 
and learn to keep it. Use yourself to the beautiful, — which is 
the right, — disposing of things as you hmidle them ; so that it 
will be a part of your toilet to dress your room and its arrange- 
ments while you dress yourself; leaving the draperies you take 
off as lightly and artistically hung, or as delicately folded and 
placed, as the skirts you loop carefully to wear, or the ribbon 
and lace you put with a soft neatness about your throat. 
Cherish your instincts of taste and fitness in every little thing 
that you have about you. Let it grow impossible to you to 
put down so much as a pin-box where it will disturb the 
orderly and pleasant grouping upon your dressing-table; or to 
stick your pins in your cushion, even, at all sorts of tipsy and 
uncomfortable inclinations. This will not make you "fussy" 
— it is the other thing that does that; the not knowing, except 
by fidgety experiment, what is harmony and the intangible 
grace of relation. Once get your knowledge beyond study, 
and turn it into tact, — which is literally having it at your 
fingers' ends, as I told you, — and order will breathe about you, 
and grace evolve from commonest things, and uses and belong- 
ings, wherever you may be; and ''putting things to rights" 
will not be separate task-work and trouble, any more than it is 
in the working of the solar system. It will go on all the time, 
and with a continual pleasure. 

Take upon yourself gradually, — for the sake of getting 
them in hand in like manner, if for no other need, — all the 
cares that belong to your own small territory of home. Get 
together things for use in these cares. Have your little wash- 
cloths and your sponges for bits of cleaning ; your furniture- 
brush and your feather-duster, and your light little broom and 
your whisk and pan; your bottle of sweet-oil and spirits of 
turpentine, and piece of flannel, to preserve the polish, or 
restore the gloss, where dark wood grows dim or gets spotted. 
Find out, by following your surely growing sense of thorough- 
ness and niceness, the best and readiest ways of keeping all 



406 HOME TOPICS. 

fresh about you. Invent your own processes ; they will come 
to you. I shall not lay down rules or a system for you. When 
you have made yourself wholly mistress of what you can learn 
and do in your own apartment, so that it is easier and more 
natural for you to do it than to let it alone, — so that you don't 
count the time it takes any more than that which you have to 
give to your own bathing and hair-dressing, — then you have 
learned enough to keep a whole house, so far as its cleanly 
ordering is concerned. 

But doiit keep going to your mother. You have every one 
of you probably some independence of money, or some possi- 
bility of economizing it. Buy your own utensils; set up your 
own establishment, if only by slow degrees. You will know 
the good of it then; and you will be setting up your character 
at the same time. There will be no sudden, violent resolution 
and undertaking, which drafts aid and encouragement from 
everybody about you, getting up prospective virtue by sub- 
scription, and upsetting half the current order of the household 
for an uncertain experiment. Be in earnest enough to make 
your own way, and before you or any body else thinks about 
it, you will have become a recognized force in the domestic 
community; you will have risen into your altitude without 
assumption, just as you are growing, by invisible hair-breadths, 
into your womanly stature. 

Then, some day, you may say to your mother, " Let me 
have charge of the china-closet and pantry, please" ; and you 
may enter upon a new realm, having fairly conquered your own 
queendom. And I can tell you this new one will be a pretty 
and a pleasant realm to queen in ; an epitome of the whole 
housework practiced in dainty, easy little ways. Shelves to 
be kept nice, wiped down with a soft wet cloth wrung from the 
suds that cups and silver have come out bright from; cups 
and silver, plates and dishes, to be ranged in prettiest lines and 
piles and groups on the fresh shelves; cupboards to be regu- 
lated with light daily touches and replacements; yesterday's 
cake and cake-basket, fruit or jelly, custards or blanc-mange, to 
be overlooked and newly dished for the next table-setting; the 



SPINNING AND WEAVING. 407 

nice remnant of morning cream to be transferred to a fresh jug 
and put in a cool, clean corner ; to-day's parcels, perhaps, to 
be bestowed ; and the doors closed, with a feeling of plenty and 
comfort that only the thrifty, delicate housewife — who knows 
and utilizes the resources that are but uncomfortable odds and 
ends to the disorderly, heedless, procrastinating one — ever has 
the pleasure of All this is, cozily and in miniature to the 
larger care of kitchen and larder, what the little girl's baby- 
house has been (if she began, like a true woman-child, to ''spin 
and weave" for her womanly vocation) to the "house of her 
own" that she — you — began to talk of then, and that you are 
earning a right to now. And pretty soon this daily care, 
this daily pleasure, will have become a facile thing, a thing 
easily slipped into the day's programme, and never to be a 
mountain or a bugbear any more, either to do or to teach ; 
because you " know every twist and turn of it," and it is not 
a process of conscious detail, but a simple whole that you 
can dispose of with a single thought and its quick mechanical 
execution. 

In like manner, again, you can take up cooking. You can 
learn to make bread, until the fifteen minutes' labor that it will 
be for you to toss up the dough for to-morrow's baking will 
not seem to you a terrible infliction, when it happens that you 
may have it to do, any more than the mending of a pair of 
gloves for to-morrow's wearing ; simply because it will be an 
old, accustorned thing that you know the beginning and the 
end of — not a vague, untried toil looming in indefinite propor- 
tions, that are always the awful ones. 

You can take some simple, frequent dish, and for a while 
make it your business to prepare it, whenever it is wanted — 
dipped toast, perhaps, or tea-muffins ; and you will wonder, 
when you pass on to some other thing of the sort in change, 
how the familiar managing one matter of measuring and mix- 
ing, boiling or baking, has given you "judgment" and hand- 
ling for the clever achievement of the next. For there are 
declensions and conjugations in the grammar of housewifery, 
and a few receipts and processes become like " Musa, musse," 



408 HOME TOPICS. 

and " Amo, amare," and make you free of the whole syntax 
of cookery, and, Hke ** all print" to Silas Wegg, all its parsing 
and construction are open to you. 

I can only briefly hint and sketch in this one limited *'talk." 
But a little leaven leaveneth ; if you begin on the principle I 
try to show you, you will feel yourself gathering powers and 
wisdoms, and these very powers and wisdoms will themselves 
open to you the methods and suggestions of more. More, and 
deeper, and higher; for you will begin to reach into things 
behind the outward ordering, that are inevitably related, and 
out of which all true and orderly expression grows. 

You will begin to order yourself: you will have begun 
already. You are making the manner of woman you shall be 
in this living of yours, that is to be externally pure and sweet 
and gracious. 

This also will have, and is having, its outward stage ; but it 
deepens inwardly, in its own turn, day by day. Everything 
thorough must. 

You want to make yourself pretty and pleasing — lovely, 
feminine, attractive in person and movement and dress. This 
almost always comes first; it is the object- teaching and lead- 
ing; good and true in its place, and not thrown away as value- 
less or evil, even when the truth behind it comes to be seen and 
sought. A woman should be sweet and pleasing ; if she have 
a sweet and pleasing nature, she will be, whether her nose be 
Greek or snub, her hair dusky or golden. There is a secret to 
it that I wish I could tell you without seeming to fall into the 
trite old sayings that you will think are put in for properness 
— to be agreed to and then dropped for quicker inventions — for 
little arts and tricks and studies and touches that slip danger- 
ously into false habit and self-absorption, corrupting the nature 
and the life-love, and defeating desire with its own anxiety. 

The short road is not all the way round upon the circnnifer- 
ejtcCy btct straight otct — a radius fro7n the heart. And this is 
not a moral saying, opposing itself to your inclination, but a real 
" open sesame " to help you quickest to what you want. It 
is the secret by which the rose blooms. You could not put its 




LOOKING IN THE GLASS SPOILS YOUR COMPLEXION. 



SPINNING AND WEAVING. 409 

petals on ; you can make a rag-rose so, but it will be a rag-rose 
after all. Nature has cunninger, sweeter, easier ways ; she 
works no clumsy, laborious miracles, wrong-side out. She 
nurses a live, hidden something — a true desire to be. And 
the sunshine and the rain, and all outside life that is, searches 
and meets the answering life in the green little bud ; and that 
stirring, stirs all the lovely, secret possibilities that are under 
the green, outward into tender petaling and color and fra- 
grance ; and the rose, that was meant to be, is born. " For 
God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him ; to every seed its 
own body." Just believe this; be alive to the things that are 
not yourself, and yourself shall surely be as beautiful as God 
sees you can be. 

An old woman told me once, when I was a little girl : 
" Don't look much in the glass ; it spoils your complexion." 
I suppose it was a device, but it hit the very fact. Look 
in the glass ; think of yourself, and take care of your person, 
and your dress, just as much as must be, to put yourself in 
fresh and appropriate order ; and mind you refer the question 
of how much that is, always and faithfully, to conscience. 
Then go away and forget ; and don't get a habit of glancing 
and returning, needlessly. You cannot think how much that 
strict self-judgment would condemn will be saved by just 
making and keeping this rule. And how greatly you will 
gain, too, in the very things that you would take too much 
thought for, and that your Father knoweth your need of, and 
will give you as He gives to the lilies and roses. " / am the 
rose of Sharon ; /am the lily of the valley." Beauty and per- 
fectness are hidden in Him, and come out from Him. If His 
life is in you, you need not be afraid. You will not be 
unlovely; you will not miss of anything that you can be. "No 
good thing, and no perfect thing, will He withhold from them 
that walk uprightly." But every over-anxiety hinders and 
interferes with His work. Every look that you study in 
yourself, for mere look's sake ; every way you practice for 
affecting, — even for an involuntary instant, — will counteract 
and spoil some better look and reality that might have graced 



410 , HOME TOPICS. 

you. Don't look in the glass too much, literally or metaphori- 
cally ; it will spoil your complexion, which is your true har- 
mony and putting together. 

Lay up your treasure in heaven. Spin and weave for the 
hfe-garments; for these are in the unseen kingdom, and the 
seen things are only signs of them. Make yourself, every 
day, some even thread; weave carefully some faithful web in 
your temper and character. Be sweet, be beautiful in your 
thoughts. Be full of gladness along with others, full of inter- 
est in others' plans ; grow strong in patience, by bearing 
evenly with little bothers; every one of them shall help you 
to be strong against great troubles and in great needs; calm 
and wise for yourself and your others, to save troubles and 
meet needs that will face you by and by. Spinsters of your 
very selves you are; and, since life grows inevitably from the 
seed of self, — since it is existence, not imposition, — spinsters 
of your own story and circumstance, beforehand, more than 
you dream. You are making, now, the plan of a whole life- 
time;' your occurrences shall be different, according as you 
spin at your wheel of character the thread of your identity 
that is to run through them ; for character does make circum- 
stance; some things cannot happen alike to all, since all living 
does not lead into the same possibilities of happening. 

This is the wonder of the spinning and weaving that we 
are all set to do for ourselves here in this world: working at 
wheels of life from which are fashioned and furnished our 
garment and our whole house for the time everlasting; the 
body and condition that we shall find grown out from the 
fitness we have made in ourselves, as surely as we find the 
flower grown from the seed we have planted: "Earnestly 
desiring" — and it is the real, earnest desire that all the while 
creates and determines in kind and quality — "to be clothed 
upon with our house which is from heaven," or from the 
inward. "//" so be that, being clothed upon, we be not found 
naked." 



HELPING ALONG. 4I I 

HELPING ALONG. 

" \TOW she has got a moral fit, and is trying to be dreadful 
IM good. She always does so after being naughty," said 
a little friend of mine, glancing at a younger sister with the 
superior air of one who was never naughty. 

The meek, repentant expression of the other child changed 
at once to a half-sullen, half-defiant look, and she turned away, 
grieved and angered by the very voice that should have been 
full of kindly encouragement in the well-doing so hard to 
most of us. 

We often witness little scenes like this, and very naturally 
wonder why children are sometimes so unsympathetic, why 
trying to be good should excite ridicule instead of respect, 
and why, when we all know by experience how hard it is to 
do right, we are not more ready with the helping hand, the 
hearty "Cheer up and try again," which is so sweet and 
comforting. 

This is work that "we girls" are eminently fitted for by 
nature and by grace, if we choose to see and make the duty 
ours. The gift of sympathy is a very lovely one, — more 
lasting than beauty, more useful than many an accomplish- 
ment, more magical than any art a woman can possess, for it 
is the key that opens hearts, a passport to the hidden world 
of romance that lies behind our every-day life, the touch of 
nature that makes the whole world kin. 

Not the sentimental sympathy ready to gush into tears at 
the loss of a pet bird, and to exhale in sighs when the test of 
real trouble comes. But the power of reading in the faces of 
those about us something of the hopes, the doubts, and needs 
that live in all of us; the skill to answer a wistful look with a 
cordial Can-I-help-you? glance, and put into the grasp of a 
hand the subtle warmth that telegraphs without a word the 
glad message, "Here's a friend." 

It must be genuine, simple, and sincere, with no thought of 
reward, though wonderful returns are made from most unex- 
pected sources, as in the dear old fairy tales the beggar whom 



412 HOME TOPICS. 

the good girl feeds gives her a gift that smooths her way- 
through hfe. 

I think we cannot begin too early to cherish this winsome 
grace both in ourselves and others. Fathers and mothers, set 
a good example, w^hich brothers and sisters should follow, glad 
and proud to stand loyally by one another through both 
defeats and victories. 

I well remember how helpful was this sort of sympathy in 
my own tempestuous girlhood, when every day was a struggle 
with the trials that beset a strong-willed, hot-tempered child. 
A look, a word, a warning gesture; and often going to my 
little journal to record with tragic brevity, ''A bad day," I 
found a line or two waiting for me full of the tender disap- 
pointment that goes deeper than reproach, the never-failing 
belief in the possibility of success, the sweet assurance that 
"Mother never forgets to ask God to help the little daughter 
trying to be good." 

Next to mothers come sisters, and to them I earnestly 
recommend the subject, for I cherish a cheerful belief that the 
girls of the present are going to profit by the work of the girls 
of the past so well that the girls of the future will have a 
splendid start. 

"Boys are so horrid nobody can be patient with them," 
says many a sister, driven to her wit's end by the manifold 
transgressions of the brothers, whom she too often regards as 
inflictions to be lamented over and got rid of as soon as possi- 
ble. The boy's rude enjoyments, droll mishaps, and soaring 
aspirations have no interest for the girl, busy with her gentle 
pleasures, little duties, and romantic dreams. So they grow 
apart, and years later, when the man has done something to 
be proud of, the woman wants to share the glory; or if he fails 
and troubles come, the sister, taught by her own experience, 
longs to comfort him ; but now it is a hard task, for the hearts 
are shut, and it is almost impossible to establish in a day the 
affectionate confidence which should have grown with their 
growth, and too late they learn how much they might have 
been to one another if they had only begun in time. 



HELPING ALONG. 413 

Girls are quick to see and feel many things that escape 
other eyes, and how can they use this power better than in 
watching over the more adventurous and willful spirits of the 
boys ? Bear and forbear, help them to shun temptation, be 
ready for the first sign of repentance, and try to make it easy 
for the proud or stubborn to say the hard words, " I am 
sorry." No matter how absurd or inconvenient a form the 
penitence may take, never laugh at it or put it by as of no 
value. A repulse just at the tender moment may lock up a 
confidence that never will come back. No matter how often 
the solemn resolutions are broken, believe that amendment is 
always possible, and be to those brothers what I heard a sister 
once called, with looks that were blessings, '' Our Conscience." 

As young people like stories better than sermons, and 
have great skill in finding the moral, if there is any, I will 
sugar-coat my little pill with an incident which illustrates this 
point exactly. 

A certain scapegrace — Johnny by name — tormented his 
sister's kitten, and being discovered, excused his cruelty by 
saying coolly : 

*' Well, a cat 's got nine lives, and I don't see any harm in 
hanging her a little, 'cause if she does lose one she 's got eight 
more to fall back on." 

The anguish of Sue over the injured darling was great, and 
a day of solitary confinement on bread and water did not seem 
too severe a punishment for the hard-hearted boy who could 
even think of harming a downy white kit like Puff. 

But as night came on. Sue began to relent, for Pussy was 
so lively that partial suffocation really did seem to agree with 
her, and the vision of poor lonely Johnny, with his three slices 
of bread and three mugs of water, rose before her in the most 
pathetic manner- 
Getting a free pardon from the higher powers, she went to 
bear the glad tidings, but peeped through the key-hole first to 
see how it was likely to be received. A somewhat limited 
view of the cell revealed the prisoner's head lying on his arm, 
and a candle in dangerous proximity to his curly pate. 



414 HOME TOPICS. 

" Poor Johnny! " breathed tender Sue, and, unlocking the 
door, she entered, beaming with peace and good-will. 

But brief as had been her delay in getting the key to turn, 
an entire change had come over the captive, and no sign of 
"poor Johnny" could be discovered in the unrepentant- 
looking boy who sat with his boots on the table, hands in his 
pockets, and an expression of the utmost unconcern upon his 
youthful countenance. 

" I thought you might like to know that Puff is quite com- 
fortable again," began Sue, rather daunted by this sudden 
change. 

*' Course she is ! Can't kill a cat so easy as all that," with 
a contemptuous shrug. 

" Would n't you like to come down now ? " 

" Don't care particularly about it." 

** Please do care, Johnny, for I 'm lonely if you are n't. No 
one shall say a word about it, and we '11 all be glad to see you 
back." 

Johnny put his feet down and moved uneasily in his chair, 
for Sue had smoothed the way to freedom so sweetly, his bot- 
tled up remorse began to work within him. 

** Did yoi^ ask father ? " 

"Yes; I knew you would n't do it again, and must be very 
tired of staying here so long." 

" Oh, I 've been busy, and had lots of fun making 
that." 

Lifting the light, Johnny proudly displayed upon the wall 
the motto, " Do as you would be done by," made of what at 
first looked like a series of queer, black blots. 

"That is a very good one for you to have," began Sue, 
then started back with an irrepressible "Ow!" for on going 
nearer to admire, she discovered that the blots were beetles of 
some sort. 

" Oh, Johnny, how horrid ! What are they ? How could 
you do so to those poor things?" 

" Cockroaches; and you need n't howl, for they were all as 
dead as Julius Caesar before I put a pin into 'cm." 



HELPING ALONG. 415 

Then, as if some explanation were necessary, and this a 
good opportunity to make the afnende honorable, he added, 
soberly: 

"You see, when I came up, I was so mad I planned to put 
all the bugs and things I 'd caught in my trap into your bed 
and pockets, and down your back, first chance I got. But I 
had to wait, and somehow my mad all went off, and then I 
thought I 'd have a motto, something like those you 've 
got. The one in your room has leaves and ferns around 
it, and I had n't a thing but these old chaps lying around. 
Don't you know, in that Dickens's book, one of the fellows 
makes a picture of dried skeets ? I thought I 'd try the 
cockies, and it was great fun putting 'em up. Neat thing, 
is n't it?" 

The utter absurdity of the golden rule being framed in 
starved cockroaches never struck Johnny, but it did Sue, and 
she was on the brink of a laugh, when a glance at the boy's 
face, as he surveyed his work with pensive satisfaction, made 
her smother her merriment,' by a great effort, and try to 
answer gravely: 

*'I never saw anything so curious; and I do hope you will 
remember not to be cruel, for papa says really brave people 
never are, and I know you are n't a coward, for you never hit 
a boy smaller than yourself," gently moralized Sue. 

"I 'd be a mean sneak if I did!" exclaimed Johnny, with 
scorn. 

" Then I should n't think you 'd hurt a poor little cat, who 
cannot fight one bit," added Sue, feehng that she had got 
him now. 

No answer from Mr. John, who suddenly affected to be 
absorbed with a refractory roach, who would twirl around on 
his pin instead of pointing gracefully upward in the last letter 
of the word "you." But Sue saw a slight pucker around his 
mouth, and knew that it was all right, for that peculiar pucker 
was a sure sign that emotions of the tender sort were getting 
under weigh. So she put her hand on his arm, whispering, 
with a gentle pat: 



4l6 HOME TOPICS. 

*''You need n't say you are sorry, for Puff and I forgive and 
forget. Wont you please come down, dear? I can't enjoy 
myself a bit if you don't." 

"You go along — I'll come in a minute," from Johnny, in 
the gruff tone that Sue knew by experience was the last growl 
of the storm. 

But she had barely time to get to the dark corner of the 
hall when there was a rush from the rear, a rough arm came 
around her neck, a kiss went off like a pistol-shot, and a 
voice that was no longer gruff said, all in one hearty, inco- 
herent burst: 

"I am sorry, I never will again, you're a first-class girl, 
and I '11 keep the old cockles up there forever 'n' ever, to 
make me remember to be as good to cats and things as you 
are to me ! " 

Sue had many a laugh afterward to pay her for the one so 
wisely smothered at that critical moment, and Johnny's repent- 
ance, though it took a droll form, was sincere, for he laid 
the words of the cockroach motto to heart, and tried to be 
worthy the love and respect of a "first-class sister." 

School-mates and bosom friends can do a geat deal for one 
another in this direction, not by constant fault-finding, but by 
patiently trying to cure the faults in the kindest way. There 
are plenty of little reforms in manners and habits, as well as in 
thoughts and feeling, to be undertaken, and the best test of 
friendship is this mutual help and confidence. 

I once heard about a set of girls who felt it their duty to 
tell one another their faults with entire frankness; in fact, they 
quite exerted themselves to drag forth the hidden weaknesses 
of their young souls, all with the best intentions in life. Of 
course a general explosion soon followed, and the eternal 
friendships lasted about a week. 

A wise observer interested in these attempts at "culture," 
as the girls called it, suggested that, instead of looking for 
faults, they should try to discover and strengthen the virtues 
in one another, remembering that only those without sin may 
throw stones at their neighbors. 



HELPING ALONG. 417 

The damsels tried the plan, and it is pleasant to know 
that it succeeded admirably, and many lasting friendships 
rose from the ruins of the Candor Club and the Palace of 
Truth. 

Here is another little story, in which some younger girls 
learned the same lesson in another way : 

Two sisters were at school together, one a general favorite, 
the other almost universally disliked, owing to an unfortunate 
temper which was always giving and taking offense. Being as 
proud as passionate, the poor child felt keenly the prejudice 
against her, and tried to conquer it; but her efforts took such 
odd or inconvenient shapes that they were received with 
laughter, incredulity, or coldness. 

Even her sister, annoyed by her freaks and wearied by her 
short-lived repentances, seemed to shut her out from the 
happy world in which the others lived amicably together, and 
little Jane, after hotly resenting this banishment, retired into 
herself to mourn over her own iniquities with all the helpless 
anguish of a sensitive, unhappy child. 

No one guessed the little tragedy going on in Janey's heart, 
but left her to herself till accident betrayed how much she 
suffered, and how severely she was punishing herself for the 
faults all condemned, yet no one helped her to cure. 

A teacher, going her rounds one night to see if all was safe 
in the dove-cot, found Janey lying on the floor beside the bed 
in which her sister lay, snugly tucked up and fast asleep. 
Thinking that the restless child had fallen out, the teacher 
stooped to waken her, but saw that this chilly couch had been 
purposely chosen, for a corner of the bed-side carpet was 
folded over Janey's feet, and under her cheek lay a little hand- 
kerchief, still wet with secret tears. 

Surprised and touched, the lady stood a moment, feeling 
that this was some self-inflicted penance of the odd child's, 
which must be stopped, yet might be turned to good account 
if rightly treated. 

Lifting the little icicle, she carried her away to a warm 
room, and Janey waked up with an arm about her, a kind face 
^7 



4l8 HOME TOPICS. 

bending over her, and a motherly voice saying, "Tell me all 
about it, dear." 

Taken off her guard, Janey's reserve melted like mist 
before the sun, and the full heart involuntarily overflowed at 
the first gentle touch. 

*' No, I did n't fall out — I went on purpose when Fan was 
asleep," began Janey, unable to resist questions that were 
accompanied by caresses. 

"But why?" 

" I heard the big girls reading about some good folks who 
did such things to make them better. I 'm so bad nobody 
can love me, not even Fan, and so I tried this way, though I 
can't ever be a saint, I know." 

" This is not the first time, then ? and this is how you get 
such colds and chilblains?" exclaimed the teacher, wondering 
what revelation would come next. 

" Oh, I want to have them, for if I ache and sneeze, it 
makes me remember better than black marks or scoldings. 
Those good people had prickly belts and whips, and things 
that I can't have ; but colds do very well, and chilblains are 
first-rate," answered the young martyr for conscience' sake, 
chafing the poor feet, which were nearly as red as the flannel 
nightgown she wore. 

" But, Janey, dear, there is no need of punishing yourself 
like this. You will get sick, and that would grieve us all," 
began the teacher, touched to the heart by those innocent 
confessions. 

" No, I don't think anybody would care much. P'r'aps if 
I died the girls might cry a little, and be sorry they were n't 
kinder to me when I was ahve. I 'd Hke them to know I tried 
to be pleasanter, though they did n't believe me when I said 
so. Do you think they would then?" asked the child, with a 
sob, as if her morbid imagination already pictured the pathetic 
scene and rather enjoyed it. 

Feeling that something must be done at once, the teacher 
promised to speak to the girls, and assure them of Janey's 
sincerity in her efforts at reformation. But Janey stood in 



WORTH YOUR WEIGHT IN GOLD. 419 

such dread of their ridicule she was terror-stricken at the idea, 
and would only consent to Fan's being told in strict secrecy ; 
and after much comfortable counsel, was about to depart to 
bed in a happier frame of mind, when another sprite appeared. 

It was Fanny, who had waked to find her sister gone, and, 
being rather conscience-pricked for her late neglect, had come 
to "kiss and make up." 

Seizing the propitious moment, the teacher told the story 
of Janey's private penances so well, that long before the tale 
was done there were two red nightgowns cuddling on the rug, 
two faces cheek to cheek, two little sisters promising to love, 
and trust, and help each other truly, truly all their lives. 

I hope they did, for in this troublous world of ours there 
is no braver, better work for young or old than that of 
patiently, kindly lending a hand and helping along. 



WORTH YOUR WEIGHT IN GOLD. 

" TTES, Miss Mamie, dat 's jes' what de missus sed to me. 
1 ' Aunt Patsy,' sez she, ' you 's jes' wuf yer weight in 
gole.' An' so I wuz. Miss Mamie ; I know'd it. Poor weak old 
cull'd pussun as I is, I know'd she war tellin' d' exac' trufe. 
De Lord knows 't aint no vain-gloruf'cation fur ole Patsy t' 
say dem words. I don't take no pus'nal credit 'bout it. Miss 
Mamie. Cookin' takes practice, but it 's got to come fus' by 
natur'. De ang'l Gabr'el hisse'f could n' make a cook out o' 
some folks. It 's got to be born inter yer, like. I 'se mighty 
'umble and fearful ub myse'f 'bout some t'ings, but not 'bout 
cookin'. Dat I un'stan' ; an' dat 's what made me wuf my 
weight in gole. Missus did n' hab no sort troubl' 'bout nothin' 
af'er once dis chile come. She sed so. Aint no use talkin' 
'bout it — dere 's her 'cise words to prove it. 

*' Well, de work wuz mighty heavy in dat house. Stocks o' 
comp'ny, and massa war one ob dem perwiders dat don' hab no 



420 HOME TOPICS. 

sort notion how many pots kin go onto de stobe, and seem t' 
t'ink de oben was mos' big as de barn. Many 's de time I got 
so tired seem'd to me 's if I 'd drop ; but af er missus sed dat^ 
I did 'n' mind nuffin'. * Patsy,' sez I, when I seed myse'f 
gettin' done up, *yer goo' f nuffin' lazy nigger, wha' 's matter 
wid yer ? Don' yer know yer 's wuf yer weight in gole ? ' — 
and dat ud fotch me squar' up. Many 's de time I 'se sed dem 
words to myse'f sence dat day, but wid dis diff'ence: Missus, 
dear soul! she done gone to Ab'am's bosom four year 'go; an' 
ole Patsy eber sence 's bin mos' too fur on wid dis 'ere cough to 
be much 'count to white folks — and so I keep sayin' tomyse'f, 
* Yer wuz wuf yer weight in gole. Don' nebber forgit dat.' " 

And, all this time, the brightly kerchiefed and check- 
aproned speaker was going on briskly with her work, while I 
sat looking at her with an amused smile ? 

Not a bit of it. She was in bed, dying of a slow consump- 
tion, and my heart was full of reverence as I stood gently 
fanning her. She was talking beyond her strength, but I knew 
it was useless to check her while her thoughts were with this 
treasured saying of her "missus." Presently she sank into a 
doze. I stood there, afraid to move lest I should wake her. 

In a few moments she opened her eyes. 

" Bress yer heart. Miss Mamie, don' stan' dere no longer. 
Ole Patsy don' want ter be nussed like she war a queen." 

Her eyes were so bright and her tones so cheerful that I 
thought she was going to laugh ; but, instead, she said softly : 

" 'T aint fur much longer ; de Lord '11 soon sen' his char'ot 
an' take me to glory." 

She ceased speaking. I knew by her face, though not a 
sound could be heard, that she was singing, under her breath, 
one of the dear old negro hymns that we had been used to 
hearing when she was up and at work ; and then she fell into 
another doze. 

Two weeks from that day the chariot came. 

Happy old Aunt Patsy ! (Even with the memory of her 
illness and suffering fresh in mind, I always think of her as 



WORTH YOUR WEIGHT IN GOLD. 421 

*' happy old Aunt Patsy," for had she not been worth her 
weight in gold ?) The dear old soul always had laid great 
stress, not at being prized at her weight in gold, but on being 
really "'wuf it'' That was the point. And the best of it was, 
that her weight being mainly in her being a good servant, it 
increased just so much in proportion as she excelled. Simple- 
hearted creature though she was, she would have scorned the 
idea of weight, in this connection, being a matter of mere flesh 
and bones. No, it was Patsy the cook who was weighed in the 
balance. 

It seems to me now, that if I had seen Aunt Patsy when I 
was a little girl, and heard her tell her story, it would have 
been a great help. It would have taught me, in one easy les- 
son, that to be worth your weight in gold is a great advantage, 
and that the best way of becoming worth your weight in gold 
is to learn to do some one thing thoroughly well. Aunt Patsy 
could cook. That is a fine thing in itself Cooking is a good 
business when one has a living to make, and a valuable accom- 
plishment when one has a living ready made. Every one of us 
girls, little and big^ young and old, should know something 
about it, and should seize all good opportunities to improve in 
the art. But I am not going to ask you to learn to cook ; that 
is, not now, especially if it is not *'born into you." I only 
throw out, as a friendly suggestion, that every girl should 
make it an object, as Aunt Patsy did, to learn to do one thing 
well at a time. If, as a start, she selects some style of house- 
work, so much the better. Let it be sweeping and dusting; 
let it be bed-making ; let it be clear-starching, silver-cleaning, 
or butter-making, or even a single branch of cookery, such as 
bread-making, or that rare art, potato-boiling. Let her aim at 
real excellence in any one of these, taking the most exact pains, 
looking out day by day for ways of improvement, aiming to 
excel herself at each effort, until, at last, ''Jenny did it" (or 
whatever her fortunate name may be) shall stand as a guar- 
antee for excellence in this or that special department. Let 
Jenny's butter or Jenny's bread be the best her father and 
mother ever tasted ; or let them feel that no one else can so 



422 HOME TOPICS. 

brighten the silver, or the tins, or furniture; that it is sure to 
be all right if Jenny but sweeps the halls and stairs, or Jenny 
but makes the pudding, — '' It 's her specialty, you know," — 
and you will see, if you are Jenny, what satisfaction there 
is in it 

Then, when one style of work is mastered, another can be 
taken up and made a study ; and so on, till you are worth 
your weight in gold to your family. Mind, I do not mean to 
say that while these special endeavors are going on you are to 
do all other work carelessly and without interest. Not so, of 
course. I mean only that one branch at a time shall receive 
most care and attention till it is mastered to the utmost of 
your ability. Nor do I mean that you are to spend all of 
your young life in housework. An average of half an hour a 
day devoted to such work, or even less, all through one's girl- 
hood, will in many cases be all that is necessary or desirable. 
But certainly a little girl is to be pitied who never has a 
chance to learn practically the rudiments of housewifery. I 
hope none of you who read this are so unfortunate. 

There are other fields of effort which you may cultivate. 
Sewing or music, reading, fancy-work, drawing, certain school- 
studies, gardening — whichever of them seems most attractive 
to you — will serve as a starting-point. I have dwelt princi- 
pally upon the art of cooking, because Aunt Patsy set me talk- 
ing ; but there are many fair paths opening in every direction. 
Take the one nearest by, whether it lead to the kitchen, the 
parlor, the Hbrary, or out-of-doors. But be sure to be 
thorough as you go along. Don't shimble-shamble through 
everything, and then wonder that those who love you best are 
not quite satisfied with your progress — that you do not really 
add to any one's comfort or interest ; in short, that you are 
not worth your weight in gold. 

'' I love books best, but can I be a help to anybody at 
home if I sit and read all day ?" you may ask. 

And I answer, you cannot. If you read too much, you 
are not reading well. If you read too steadily, you are 
not reading well. And if you read books that do not 



WORTH YOUR WEIGHT IN GOLD. 423 

make you more intelligent, more sunny, more charitable and 
Christian than you otherwise would be, you are reading very 
badly indeed. If you sit curled up on a sofa, selfishly neglect- 
ing some duty, and filling your mind with false ideas of life, 
and arousing thoughts that in your secret heart you know are 
not good for you, you are doing not only yourself an injury, 
but every one else with whom you may henceforth be brought 
in contact. 

But if at seasonable times, and after proper intervals of 
play or bodily exercise, you read in an inquiring, sincere 
way books that entertain or instruct the best part of you 
(we all soon find out what that best part of ourselves 
is), and that have been selected under guidance of some 
one competent to help you, then you are doing others good 
as well as yourself by your reading. You can hardly 
go up or down stairs when in the mood such reading 
engenders without doing somebody good. If it is only the 
cat on the landing, she '11 get the benefit of it somehow. A 
sunny, healthy mind sheds beams of light unconsciously ; and 
then there are the cheery word, the pleasant smile, the ready 
spirit of fun, the thoughtful question or answer, the entertain- 
ing bubbles of talk that rise to the surface of a mind set 
sparkling by good books worthily read. You will soon find 
the value of it all ; or some one else will. 

It is not so much what good thing we do, though that is of 
great consequence, but how well we do it that determines our 
success. A pragmatic, conceited manner, or a too selfish 
eagerness, will spoil any pursuit. There is such a thing, you 
must know, as being unpleasantly pleasant, meanly generous, 
incompetently competent, or even wickedly pious. If you 
will think a moment, you will see that it must be so. The 
wrong side of the prettiest fabric is always very near its 
smooth surface. If you do not keep the right side up with 
care, the wrong side will show itself It is so with all desires 
and efforts for self-improvement. They have their wrong side. 

Some persons, if once started on a road, will be so confi- 
dent of their way that they '11 forget to make the proper 



424 HOME TOPICS. 

turnings; and there are persons who, if left to themselves, 
Avould from very earnestness hack a finger to pieces in getting 
out a splinter. That 's over-zeal. Such persons are not 
worth their weight in gold to anybody. Then there 's the 
self-satisfied kind, the worst kind of all, perhaps. Self-satis- 
faction is a wall that, builded by a girl's own vanity, shuts her 
in completely. She cannot get outside of it herself, and no 
one cares to scale it in order to get at her. A state of entire 
self-satisfaction is the loneliest thing on earth. Self-approba- 
tion is another matter. It is worth trying for because it is, in 
itself, good. But we must build steps with it, not walls. 

That is what Aunt Patsy did. She cooked better and 
better every day. She worked hard for self-approbation, and 
slowly made steps of it. Steadily she mounted, always hum- 
ble and fearful of herself, but always hearing her mistress's 
words, ''worth your weight in gold"; and when at last she 
stood on the top step of her little flight, she felt sure the Lord 
would be pleased that Old Patsy had been of use to some- 
body, and she was ready to go when the chariot came. 

''Swing low, sweet chariot, 
Coming for to carry me home." 



NOW, OR THEN? 

I SUPPOSE the wise young people — fourteen, fifteen, six- 
teen years old — who understand the most complex vulgar 
fractions, who cipher out logarithms "just for fun," who chatter 
familiarly about "Kickero" and "luliuse Kiser," and can bang 
a piano dumb and helpless in fifteen minutes — they, I suppose, 
will think me frivolous and unaspiring if I beg them to lay 
aside their science, — which is admirable, — and let us reason 
together a few minutes about such unimportant themes as little 
points of good manners. 



NOW, OR THEN ? 425 

A few months ago, I had the pleasure of talking with a 
gentleman who thought he remembered being aroused from 
his midnight sleep by loud rejoicings in the house and on the 
streets over the news that Lord Cornwallis had surrendered 
the British to the American forces. He was only two years old 
at that time; but, he said, he had a very strong impression of 
the house being full of Hght, of many people hurrying hither 
and yon, and of the watchman's voice in the street penetrating 
through all the din with the cry — "Past twelve o'clock and 
Cornwallis is taken!" 

Among many interesting reminiscences and reflections, 
this dignified and delighted old gentleman said he thought the 
young people of to-day were less mannerly than in the olden 
time, less deferential, less decorous. This may be true, and I 
tried to be sufficiently deferential to my courtly host not to 
disagree with him. But when I look upon the young people 
of my own acquaintance, I recall that William went, as a mat- 
ter of course, to put the ladies in their carriage; Jamie took 
the hand luggage as naturally as if he were born for nothing 
else; Frank never failed to open a door for them; Arthur 
placed Maggie in her chair at table before he took his own; 
Nelly and Ruth came to my party just as sweet and bright as 
if they did not know that the young gentlemen whom they 
had expected to meet were prevented from attending; while 
Lucy will run herself out of breath for you, and Mary sits and 
listens with flattering intentness, and Anne and Alice, and — 
well, looking over my constituency, I find the young people 
charming. 

It is true that all manners are less formal, that etiquette is 
less elaborate, now than a hundred years ago. Our grand- 
fathers and grandmothers — some, indeed, of our fathers and 
mothers — did not sit at breakfast with their fathers and 
mothers, but stood through the meal, and never spoke except 
when spoken to. I cannot say I think we have deteriorated in 
changing this. The pleasant, familiar, affectionate intercourse 
between parent and child seems to me one of the most delight- 
ful features of domestic life. The real, fond intimacy which 



426 HOME TOPICS. 

exists between parents and children seems a far better and 
safer thing than the old fashion of keeping children at arm's 
length. 

But in casting aside forms we are, perhaps, somewhat in 
danger of losing with them some of that inner kindness of 
which form is only the outward expression. Without admit- 
ting that we are an uncivil people, insisting even that we com- 
pare favorably with other nations, I wish our boys and girls 
would resolve that the courtesy of the Republic shall never 
suffer in their hands. 

Does this seem a trivial aim for those who are bending 
their energies to attain a high standing in classics and mathe- 
matics? There is perhaps no single quality that does as much 
to make life smooth and comfortable — yes, and successful — 
as courtesy. Logarithms are valuable in their way, but there 
:are many useful and happy people who are not very well 
versed even in the rule of three. A man may not know a 
word of Latin, or what is meant by "the moon's terminator," 
or how much sodium is in Arcturus, and yet be constantly 
diffusing pleasure. But no man can be agreeable without 
-courtesy, and every separate act of incivility creates its little, 
or large, and ever enlarging circle of displeasure and unhap- 
piness. 

One does not wish to go through life trying to be agree- 
able; but life is a great failure if one goes through it dis- 
agreeable. 

Yes, little friends, believe me, you may be very learned, 
very skillful, very accomplished. I trust you are: I hope you 
will become more so. You may even have sound principles 
and good habits; but if people generally do not like you, it is 
because there is something wrong in yourself, and the best 
thing you can do is to study out what it is and correct it as 
fast as possible. Do not for a moment fancy it is because you 
are superior to other people that they dislike you, for superiority 
never, of itself, made a person unlovely. It is invariably a 
defect of some sort. Generally it is a defect arising from 
training, and therefore possible to overcome. 



NOW, OR THEN ? 427 

For instance: two girls in the country have each a pony 
phaeton. One drives her sisters, her family, her guests, her 
equals, and never thinks of going outside that circle. Another 
does the same; but, more than this, she often takes the cook, 
the laundress, or the one woman who often is cook, laundress, 
house-maid, all in one. And to them the drive is a far 
greater luxury than to her own comrades, who would be play- 
ing croquet or riding if they were not with her. Now and 
then she invites some poor neighbor, she takes some young 
seamstress or worsted-worker to town to do her shopping, she 
carries the tired housewife to see her mother, she asks three 
little girls — somewhat crowded but rapturously happy — three 
miles to see the balloon that has alighted on the hill; she drives 
a widowed old mother-in- Israel to a tea-drinking of which 
she would otherwise be deprived. These are not charities. 
They are courtesies, and this bright-faced girl is sunshine in 
her village home, and, by and by, when her box of finery is 
by some mistake left at the station, a stalwart youngster, 
unbidden, shoulders it and bears it, panting and perspiring, to 
her door-step, declaring that he would not do it for another 
person in town but Miss Fanny! And perhaps he does not 
even say Miss Fanny — only Fanny. Now, she could get on 
very well without the villager's admiring affection, and even 
without her box of finery; yet the good- will of your neigh- 
bors is exceeding pleasant 

Another thing Fanny excels in is the acknowledgment of 
courtesy, which is itself as great a courtesy as the perform- 
ance of kindness. If she is invited to a lawn party or a boat- 
ing picnic, whether she accept or not, she pays a visit to her 
hostess afterward and expresses her pleasure or her regrets; 
and she pays it with promptness, and not with tardy reluct- 
ance, as if it were a burden. If she has been making a week's 
visit away from home, she notifies her hostess of her safe 
return and her enjoyment of the visit, as soon as she is back 
again. If a bouquet is sent her, — too informal for a note, — 
she remembers to speak of it afterward. You never can 
remember? No; but Fanny does. That is why I admire her. 



428 HOME TOPICS. 

If she has borrowed a book, she has an appreciative word to 
say when she returns it; and if she has dropped it in the mud, 
she does not apologize and offer to replace it. She replaces 
it first and apologizes afterward, though she has to sacrifice a 
much-needed pair of four-button gloves to do it ! Indeed, no 
person has as little apologizing to do as Fanny, because she; 
does everything promptly ; and you may notice that what we 
apologize for chiefly is delay. We perform our little social 
duties, only not in good season, and so rob them of half their 
grace. It takes no longer to answer a letter to-day than it 
will take to-morrow. But if the letter requires an answer 
instantly, and you put it off day after day, your correspondent 
is vexed, and your tardy answer will never be quite a repara- 
tion. Remember that no explanation, no apology, is quite as 
good as to have done the thing exactly as it should be in the 
first place. 



GOOD- WILL. 



IN one of my walks, the other day, I saw two boys of my 
acquaintance, whom I shall call Orson and Robin, playing 
a game of barn-ball. I suppose every country boy knows 
what that is. The ball is thrown against the unclapboarded 
side of a barn, or any other suitable building, and as it 
rebounds, the thrower, who stands behind the knocker, tries to 
''catch him out." Of course, there must be no windows to 
knock the ball through, or, the first you know, there will be a 
pane to pay for, and, quite likely, somebody very cross about 
it. A nice little game it is for two; and as I used to be fond 
of it when I was a boy, and am something of a boy still, I 
stopped to watch my young friends Orson and Robin. 

They played very well, and I sympathized so much with 
their enjoyment, that I was myself a little disappointed when 
Orson's aunt appeared with a letter which she said must go to 
the post-office at once, and asked Orson to carry it; 



GOOD-WILL. 429 

Now, Orson was her favorite nephew, and I have no doubt 
she had given him the very ball and bat he was playing with 
at the moment. She is always making him presents or doing 
him favors. So, hard as it was for him to leave his sport, I 
expected to see him, nevertheless, run with the letter, to please 
one who was constantly doing things to please him. On the 
contrary, however, he grumbled out, "Can't go now, — I 've 
got Rob here to play with me," and continued pitching the ball. 

*'It is very important the letter should go to-night," 
pleaded the aunt. "Come, Orson, dear; then you can play 
when you come back." 

"I don't want to! I can't!" And bounce went the ball 
again, tossed against the old barn. 

"Oh yes, go!" said Robin. **I '11 go with you." 

But Orson still refused, while the aunt turned back sadly 
toward the house. 

"I '11 go alone, then," cried Robin. "Mrs. Woodman! I '11 
take the letter!" And he ran after her to get it. 

"Oh, come, now! You '11 spoil all the fun!" growled 
Orson, who was so angry that he would not go with Robin, 
but staid about the barn and sulked, — flinging the ball occa- 
sionally, and trying to knock it himself, — until his companion 
returned. 

I was walking by again when Robin came back; and I 
think that if my readers could see what I then saw in the faces 
of those two boys, it would be a great deal better than any- 
thing I can write. 

Orson sullen, gloomy, selfish, unhappy. 

Robin bright, cheerful, radiant with satisfaction and good- 
will, — until he came within the shadow of Orson's discontent. 

As I cannot paint this contrast, I may as well make it a 
text for my "Talk." The world is full of Orsons, boys and 
men ; there are, moreover, an Orson and a Robin in almost every 
one, — a spirit of selfishness and a spirit of good- will; and I am 
going to ask each of my young readers to look for these two 
fellows in himself, — to get rid of the bad company of the one, 
and to cultivate the society of the other. 



430 HOME TOPICS. 

There are many subjects which I should like to talk with 
the boys about; but it seems to me they may be nearly all 
summed up in that one golden word — Good-will. Robin has 
this beautiful gift, and it makes him helpful and happy. Orson 
lacks it; and the opposite quality not only renders him miser- 
able, when things do not go to suit him, but gives him the 
dreadful power of making others uncomfortable. The good 
spirit will make a brave, generous, upright, manly man of 
Robin; the bad spirit — if it be not cast out — will make a self- 
ish, unaccommodating, hard, ill-natured man of Orson. Need 
I ask you, my dear boy, which you would rather be ? 

I have called the good spirit a gift: are those, then, to 
blame who have it not? But I have also said — or meant to 
say — that every one has it in a greater or less degree, and that 
all can cultivate it. Easy enough it seems for Robin to give 
up, for the moment, his own pleasures, and hasten to do a good 
action; his joy is in it, and he knows that his sports are all the 
sweeter when, after it, he comes back to them. It is not so 
easy for Orson, because he thinks too much about himself, in 
the first place; partly, also, because he is not wise, and does 
not know the satisfaction there is in generous conduct. Ah ! 
if I could only show him his own portrait, and convince him 
that even he has a Robin side, which he can show to the world 
when he will, and make sunshine with it for himself as well as 
for others ! 

I suppose you all, my boys, are looking for some sort of 
success in life ; it is right that you should ; but what are your 
notions of success ? To get rich as soon as possible, without 
regard to the means by which your wealth is acquired ? There 
is no true success in that : when you have gained millions, you 
may yet be poorer than when you had nothing ; and it is that 
same reckless ambition which has brought many a bright and 
capable boy like you, not to great estate at last, but to miser- 
able failure and disgrace, — not to a palace, but to a prison. 
Wealth, rightly got and rightly used, rational enjoyment, 
power, fame, — these are all worthy objects of ambition, but 
they are not the highest objects, and you may acquire them all 



GOOD-WILL. 43 E 

without achieving true success. But if, whatever you seek, you 
"^vX good-will into all your actions, you are sure of the best suc- 
cess at last ; for whatever else you gain or miss, you are 
building up a noble and beautiful character, which is not only 
the best of possessions in this world, but also is about all you 
can expect to take with you into the next. 

I say, good-will in all your actions. You are not simply to 
be kind and helpful to others ; but, whatever you do, give 
honest, earnest purpose to it. Thomas is put by his parents to 
learn a business. But Thomas does not like to apply himself 
very closely. 

"And what's the use?" he says. "I'm not paid much, 
and I 'm not going to work much. I '11 get along just as easy 
as I can, and have as good times as I can." 

So he shirks his tasks ; and instead of thinking about his 
employer's interests, or his own self-improvement, gives his 
mind to trifles — often to evil things, which in their ruinous 
effects upon his life are not trifles. As soon as he is free from 
his daily duties, he is off" with his companions, having what they 
call a good time ; his heart is with them even while his hands 
are employed in the shop or store. He does nothing thor- 
oughly well — not at all for want of talent, but solely for lack 
of good-will. He is not preparing himself to be one of those 
efficient clerks or workmen who are always in demand, and 
who receive the highest wages. There is a very different class 
of people, who are the pest of every community — workmen 
who do not know their trade, men of business ignorant of the 
first principles of business. They can never be rehed upon 
to do well any job they undertake. They are always making 
blunders which other people have to suffer for, and which react 
upon themselves. They are always getting out of employ- 
ment, and failing in business. To make up for what they lack 
in knowledge and thoroughness, they often resort to trick and 
fraud, and become not merely contemptible, but criminal. 
Thomas is preparing himself to be one of this class. You 
cannot, my dear boy, expect to raise a good crop from evil 
seed. 



432 HOME TOPICS. 

By Thomas's side works another boy, whom we will call 
James, a lad of only ordinary capacity, very likely. If 
Thomas and all the other boys did their best, there would be 
but small chance for James ever to become eminent. But he 
has something better than talent ; he brings good-will to his 
work. Whatever he learns, he learns so well that it becomes a 
part of himself His employers find that they can depend 
upon him. Customers soon learn to like and trust him. By 
dihgence, self-culture, good habits, cheerful and kindly con- 
duct, he is laying the foundation of a generous manhood, and 
of genuine success. 

In short, my dear boy, by slighting your tasks, you hurt 
yourself more than you wrong your employer. By honest 
service, you benefit yourself more than you help him. If you 
were aiming at mere worldly advancement only, I should still 
say that good-will was the very best investment you could 
make in any business. By cheating a customer, you gain only 
a temporary and unreal advantage. By serving him with 
right good-will — doing by him as you would be done by — 
you not only secure his confidence, but also his good-will 
in return. But this is a sordid consideration compared with 
the inward satisfaction, the glow and expansion of soul, which 
attend a good action, done for itself alone. 

Fifty years ago, a young man opened a small dry-goods 
store in New York. He had been a school-master, but having 
loaned his money to a friend, in order to start him in business, 
he was obhged, by his friend's illness, to assume the business 
himself On the morning of the opening, he heard his clerk 
tell a woman that the colors in a piece of calico he was selhng 
would not wash out. He reproved him for the falsehood on 
the spot. 

" You know they are not fast colors ; then, why do you 
say they are ?" 

" I thought I was here to sell goods," was the clerk's poor 
excuse. 

"So you are," said the employer. ''But you are to sell 
goods for just what they are, not for what they are. not. Don't 



GOOD-WILL. 433 

misrepresent anything, though you never make a sale. Treat 
every customer just as you would wish to be treated yourself. 
Ask a fair price for everything, and do not deceive anybody. 
I believe that is a true principle of business, and I am going to 
carry it out." 

"It is a fine theory," replied the clerk; *'but it can't be 
carried out in any line of business. If you are going to try it, 
I may as well look for another place, for you wont last long." 

The employer did try it, however ; and when he died, a 
short time ago, he left one of the three largest fortunes in 
America. His name was A. T. Stewart. What became of the 
clerk I do not know. 

Now, I do not mean to hold up Mr. Stewart as an example 
to be followed by the boys I am talking to. But he is a strik- 
ing illustration of the fact that deception in trade is not neces- 
sary to success. He believed, on the contrary, that in the long 
run it could only lead to failure. Here is a golden saying from 
the lips of a man who in fifty years amassed more than fifty 
millions of dollars : 

'' I CONSIDER HONESTY AND TRUTH AS GREAT AIDS IN 
THE GAINING OF FORTUNE." 

If such a man, with such wealth, should go still farther, and 
make good-will to his fellow-men the leading motive of his life, 
what a power he might become, and what a halo of glory would 
crown his name ! 

Ah, my boys, what a world it would be if this spirit pre- 
vailed in it, — if on every side we met those ready to help and 
cheer, instead of being compelled always to be on our guard 
against selfishness and fraud ! Now, every one can do his 
share toward making his own little world such a world. I have 
known a single brave, manly, generous boy to influence a whole 
school, so that it became noted for its good manners and good 
morals. I have also seen a vicious boy taint a whole commu- 
nity of boys with his bad habits, and set them to robbing 
orchards and birds'-nests, torturing younger children and dumb 
animals, using bad language and tobacco, and doing a hundred 
other things which they foolishly mistake for fun. 
28 



434 HOME TOPICS. 

Good- will should begin at home. How quickly you can 
tell what sort of spirit reigns among the boys or in the families 
you visit ! In some houses there is constant warfare ; at any 
time of day, you hear loud voices and angry disputes. 

" You snatched my apple and ate it up ! " 

"Touch that trap ag'in, Tom Orcutt, and I '11 give ye 
somethin' ye can't buy to the 'pothecary's ! " 

" Ma ! sha' n't Sam stop pullin' my hair ? He 's pulled out 
six great handfuls already ! " 

*' He lies ! I ha' n't touched his hair ! " 

'' Who 's been stealin' my but'nuts ? " 

*' Pete shot my arrow into the well, — and now sha' n't he 
make me another ? " 

Then go into a house where you find peace instead of war, 
innocent and happy sports instead of rude practical jokes, — 
and oh, w^hat a difference ! 

You may always tell a boy's disposition by noticing his 
treatment of his sisters. A mean and cruel boy delights in 
tyrannizing over smaller children ; but in the presence of 
stronger boys he can be civil, and even cringing. A cow- 
ardly fellow hke that is pretty sure to exercise his ill-nature 
upon the girls at home. 

Now, I know that many of the boys I am talking to have 
far more good- will than they ever show. Their disagreeable 
ways are the result of long habit and want of thought. The 
spoiled child is pretty sure to form such ways. He is accus- 
tomed to think only of himself, and to have others think chiefly 
of him. That is the trouble, I suspect, with Orson. Will he, 
when he reads this, resolve to break up the old bad habit, and 
cultivate the better spirit that is in him ? 

By good-will I do not mean simply good-nature. Good- 
nature may sit still and grin. But good-zvill is active, earnest, 
cheering, helpful. 

Ah, my boys, I have told you many stories — and I have 
no doubt some of you wish I had made this a story instead of 
a talk. But the real motive of all my stories — the lesson I 
have always wished to teach in them, but which I am afraid 



THE DOLLS' BABY-SHOW. 435 

some of you have overlooked — has been this which I am try- 
ing to impress upon you now. If I were to write as many 
more, the hidden moral lurking in every one of them would be 
the same. Or if I were now to take leave of you forever, and 
sum up all I have to say to you in one last word of love and 
counsel, that one word should be — GOOD-WILL. 



THE DOLLS' BABY-SHOW. 

IT all began at a missionary meeting. 
*' Do you want to make fifty children perfectly happy ? " 
asked Sister Eliza, as we sat there together, we two girls and 
the sweet, self-denying woman with the peace in her face. 

"Of course we do — but how?" was our exclamation; 
"what do you mean?" And what she meant by making 
fifty children perfectly happy, and how she thought that we 
could do this good thing, and how, when we heard about it, we 
determined to do it, and how we did it, and how the dolls' 
baby-show came about, and what it really was, and what fol- 
lowed this novel baby-show, — is just what we propose to tell 
to those who care about making children happ}/, and who 
choose to read our story. 

It is n't a pleasant thing to have no father, and no mother, 
and no home by oneself; but to live, fifty children, all together, 
in a great bare barn of a house, every one with the same gray 
dress and the same white apron, and not a dolly among them 
all ! Yet this was what Tabitha did, and forty-nine other 
Tabithas, and Janes, and Elizas, and Carries, Nellies, and Mary 
Anns, along with her. Poor little Tabitha ! She had nobody 
to love her. When her father and mother died, there was 
nothing for the neighbors to do but to send her to the 
orphan asylum of the county, and this was where she was, 
not many miles from New York itself There was a great 



436 HOME TOPICS. 

long room, with columns down the middle ; no carpet on the 
floor -y nothing pretty on the walls ; twenty-six cold-looking 
beds straight along the sides, — and this was all the home poor 
little Tabitha had. Some of the other children were sick and 
dreadful, and she had n't very good times playing with them. 
How she would have liked to have a doll ! Sometimes she got 
an old newspaper and twisted it up, or sometimes she made 
believe with a pillow-case; but if she could only have a real, 
live doll ! A real, live doll ! 

But there was one bright day every week, and that was the 
day when Sister Eliza came. She always brought a bright 
face, — just hke sunshine, after they had n't been out for a 
week, Tabitha thought, — and pleasant words, and goodies. 
Candy ? Bless you, no ! These poor httle gray ducklings 
never saw a peppermint stick. But she brought always a little 
paper of sweet crackers, just enough for two bites all around, 
and that was pudding, and pie, and candy, and marmalade to 
them for a whole week. And one day, the very day before 
Christmas, she came with her brightness and her crackers, and 

— something else ! Something she said that a kind lady had 
given her, and that they should know all about on Christmas- 
day. The children wondered what it could be — more crack- 
ers ? A Christmas-cake ? Perhaps only shoes and stockings 

— everybody sent them shoes and stockings, shoes with the 
toes out, and stockings with the heels darned, so that they 
hurt. They talked about nothing else. Tabitha staid awake 
almost all the night thinking it over, and then dreamed about 
it till she woke up, Christmas morning. 

** 'Liza," said she, to her little bed-neighbor, before she had 
said "Merry Christmas!" even, — '* 'Liza, what do you think I 
dweamed about last night? Oh, I dweamed — oh, it wath 
such a nice dweam ! I dweamed that Sister Sunshine's bundle 
[that 's what the children called her], that she would n't let us 
know anythin' about, wath a funny little square box, an' she 
left it in the closet, an' then I woke up in the middle of the 
night, an' Santa Clauth he came down the register an' he 
opened the closet door, an' the little box it grc\y an' it grew. 



is 



ICBki^^ ^'^%k% |f^;^: 



I 5 



**SS*^^f 



^^^< 



<^ 









M i^i ^^ ^^»- •*■ 



^ .^ 



THE CHILDREN STOOD IN LINE, WAITING THEIR TURNS. 



THE DOLLS' BABY-SHOW. 437 

an' by an' by it vvath a big, big, big baby-house, an' out came 
a big doll, an' then a littler doll, and then heaps of littler dolls, 
an' their heads were all made of sweet crackers, an' they kept 
dancin' about all 'round in the air with a funny kind o' light 
about their heads, and one of them came bobbin' up to me an' 
says, * Eat me up ! ' an' I bit off its head, an' I was so sorry, 
an' I bit my tongue, too; an' I woke up an' — oh-h-h, my 
goodness ! There is a dolly ! " 

Sure enough, there was a dolly! Not fifty dolls, indeed, 
but one ! A big, funny, rag dolly, tied to the post in the mid- 
dle of the room, and "Merry Christmas!" written over it. 
Tabitha's cry had roused up all the other forty-nine children 
from the twenty-six white beds, and in an instant they had all 
jumped out, — all but the two little sick ones in beds by them- 
selves, who could n't get up at all, — and were dancing around 
the post in their night-gowns, trying to get a hug at the 'most 
suffocated doll. Such a noise they made, and such a quarrel 
they began to get into, — yes, a quarrel even on Christmas 
morning, — that the matron came running in, and actually took 
the dolly away. The poor, disappointed faces ! But after 
breakfast they were to have the doll again, and each child, the 
matron said, should have it five minutes for her very own. 
The children who came next actually stood in line waiting their 
turns, and by the time each of them had given the poor doll 
fifty hugs and thirty kisses apiece, it was so worn to pieces that 
it did not seem as though it could live through the nighty the 
matron said. In the midst of it, in came Sister Sunshine her- 
self, and such a welcome as she had. Presently little Tabitha 
crept up to her and told her her dream. 

" I fink it 's weal nice to dweem," said Tabitha, ''when you 
can't have things weally and twuly; an' when I waked up and 
saw that dear dolly, I thought my dweam had weally come 
twue. Only it does take so long to go wound, and I only had 
it such a little bit of a minute to myself." 

''Dear little souls!" said Sister Eliza to herself; "next 
Christmas you shall have a dolly each to yourself." And this 
was how she was to make fifty children "/^r-fectly happy." 



438 HOME TOPICS. 

Meanwhile, the dolly lived in the orphan asylum with the 
fifty children. She was almost bigger than the smallest child, 
and the matron always called her '' Fifty-one," so that this got 
to be her name. By and by one of the Httle sick children died, 
on Easter day, and when summer came, two new children were 
brought in; but dolly staid ''Fifty-one." One doll to fifty 
children ! Fifty dolls to one child would not be so very 
remarkable, — the every-day doll, and grandmother's doll, and 
the doll Aunt Lottie brought from Paris, and the boy doll she 
was married to, and the rag-baby, and all the paper dolls that 
are its lineal descendants ! This one dolly had a hard time of 
it. She had so much hugging that it gave her the chromatics, 
which is a curious doll disease, when they get very black and 
blue and dirty-like, particularly in the face, and the feet begin 
to drop off, and the stuffing (if it 's a stuffed doll) comes out. 
Her best friend would n't have recognized her ; but she lived 
a whole year, and to these poor little children, who had no 
" folks " of their own, she was papa, mamma, and brother and 
sister, all together. They actually remembered her in their 
prayers, and one queer little girl made a rhyme, which they 
said after " Now I lay me " : 

*' And till the birds wake up the sun, 
Dear Lord, take care of Fifty-one ! " 

Every time that Sister Eliza saw the doll, it put her in 
mind of her promise. That was how we came into the story. 
She asked us if we could n't get our friends to give us fifty 
dolls — old ones the girls did not want; and we thought we 
could, and said we would. But we had forgotten., a very 
important matter — that nobody ever saw, or heard of, or 
dreamt of a single, solitary doll, brainless or headless, banged 
or stuffingless, without arms or without feet, that its little 
mother did not cling to as " her own dear child." So we 
began to take up contributions for new dollies, when a generous 
friend sent us — as a Christmas gift for the poor — the dollies 
themselves, fifty and to spare, packed like sardines in boxes of 
six, and all of them twins. So alike, indeed, that you could 



THE DOLLS' BABY-SHOW. 439 

only tell them apart by their boots, which were pink, and 
green, and blue, and black, and almost any color you can 
think of. 

And now the dolls began to start on their travels, for we 
had engaged all our friends as doll-dressmakers, and the dress- 
makers lived pretty much all over the country. The dolls 
went by cars, they went by boat, they went by pocket. One 
found her way to Staten Island, where was a little girl w4io 
wanted to dress at least one, and she came back as though she 
had been to Paris and had her dress made by the man dress- 
maker. Worth — a real Miss Flora McFlimsey. Presently the 
door-bell began to ring at all sorts of hours, and they all came 
trooping, one after another, ** back to mamma's, home again !" 
Now you could tell them apart easily ; here was a French 
bonne, with her white cap and white apron ; here a black- 
hooded nun ; here a little boy in a Scottish suit ; here two 
sailor laddies ; another dressed just like Sister Eliza herself; 
and still another in the gray gown of the asylum children they 
were all to visit. If those dolls could only have told the stories 
of their travels, what a book they would make ! 

So the dolls were all home again, waiting for Christmas 
morning. You could n't go anywhere in the house but a 
new doll would seem to pop out. And then everybody said 
we must have a baby-show. We wanted to give the fifty 
children some candy, too, and make their cold, bare room 
pretty, for once, with Christmas-greens, and now the dolls 
themselves should earn the money to buy their mammas 
candy. Then came the show ! 

''Walk in, ladies and gentlemen; only ten cents admission, 
to see the prize baby, and the biggest baby in the world, and 
the smallest baby in the world, and every one the best baby in 
the world, — ten cents admission, fifty babies, five for a cent, — 
walk in, ladies and gentlemen," said the manageress, a Mrs. 
Jarley with doll-babies instead of wax-works, to those who 
gave their tickets at our parlor door. And such a show of 
babies ! Shawls and sashes, hung around the walls, served as 
screens and decorations, and ranged around were not only the 



440 HOME TOPICS. 

fifty dollies themselves, but lots of other dollies who had been 
sent in as prize babies. As they could n't tell their own 
names, placards did it for them. Here were ''other people's 
children," mischievous as *' Budge and Toddie," but quiet as 
mice. Over them was the little girl who was ''born with a 
silver spoon in her mouth," dressed as fine as a fiddle, and 
next to her the one " born with no spoon at all," in sober 
homespun. "The convalescent" sat up in her tiny bed, look- 
ing as pretty as a pink. Opposite to her was "a child of the 
dark ages" — a dreadful rag-baby thing, made of a pillow and 
a black mask, with curls of carpenters' shavings. And in the 
back room were the talking midgets, — "no extra charge," — 
for the two boys had covered a table with a sheet, and dressed 
up their hands as doll-babies, which stood on the table, while 
they hid themselves underneath, and asked conundrums, and 
answered questions from the audience. 

The baby-show v/as a success ; we counted the money 
after each new-comer bought a ticket, and the last time of 
counting we had eight dollars and forty cents. This bought 
us fifty fine large cornucopias, and candy to fill them all, and a 
great bundle of Christmas-greens. What fun we had buying 
the candy, and filling the horns ! And when Christmas- eve 
at last came, the fifty dolls said good-bye, marched out of the 
house into an expressman's carriage, and so rode off to the 
asylum. 

Fifty dolls had never been seen there before, and their 
arrival created a grand excitement. But they were kept quiet 
from the children till Christmas morning, and on Christmas 
morning they woke up to find the great room dressed with 
greens, the Star in the East at one end and at the other the 
Cross, and festoons of greenery all between, and a dolly and 
candy for each one. Tabitha's dream had come true. Her 
bed-neighbor, 'Liza, was no longer there; they had found for 
her a home in the great, far West, where kind people would 
take care of her until she grew up to be a little serving-maid 
— to milk the cows and help about the house. But little 
Tabitha told her dream to 'Lisbeth, who had taken 'Liza's 



A FEW OF OUR HABITS. 44I 

place, and hugged and squeezed her dolly, ''her very own all 
the whole time." And so each of the fifty dolls found a new 
mamma and each of fifty children was made "/^r-fectly 
happy." Only most of them ate their candy so all at once 
that the doctor had to come next day, and give them each a 
dreadful dose of medicine. 

Sister Eliza and we two girls came later in the day, — and 
did we laugh or did we cry? Both, I think. The children 
were most of them not pretty and not bright, — not very 
merry, even, — and we could not but think of the prettier, and 
brighter, and happier children we knew. One little sick child 
with red, weak eyes hugged her dolly tight, as though she 
could n't have so good a time very long. 

"Well, you 've got your dolly at last; you 're always hug- 
ging up some bundle or other," said the nurse. 

The days are dull for these poor things — they have not 
much to brighten them; we were very glad we had made the 
Star in the East shine once into their lives with Christmas 
brightness. 



A FEW OF OUR HABITS. 

YOU have heard it said a great many times that we are all 
"creatures of habit," have you not? And probably you 
have taken for granted that the statement is true, without 
really stopping to think how very true it is, and how much 
habits have to do in forming our characters and preparing us 
to be useful, interesting, and agreeable men and wom.en. 

As we every one of us know, it is very easy to fall into a 
habit (particularly if it is a bad one), and exceedingly hard to 
cHmb out of it again; each repetition of an action lessens the 
difficulty of its performance, until finally we act without any 
conscious effort of mind, and by that time our habit is formed; 
therefore, it is necessary to keep our eyes wide open, and 



442 HOME TOPICS. 

watch that no bad habit creeps upon us unawares, for, after we 
are once in its power, some pretty hard lighting is required on 
our parts to overthrow the enemy. Some writer has said, 
"The chains of habit are generally too small to be felt until 
they are too strong to be broken"; but a determined will can 
file through even these mightily forged links. 

How many of you know what procrastination means ? It 
is a very common habit, especially among little girls and boys, 
and most of them act it a great many times each day, when 
they wait ''just a little while" before doing any duty that 
ought to be performed immediately. I have a Httle friend 
twelve years old who is always getting into trouble through 
this fault, though she has firmly resolved to conquer it, and 
I think is really trying her best to do so. 

When school began, a few months ago, she hoped there 
would be no time to practice in the short afternoons, for that 
was something she could not bear to do; great was her disap- 
pointment, then, when papa remarked : 

''Nina, you will get home at three o'clock each day, and 
you must always manage to practice a full hour before dark." 

The little girl intended to obey, but often she lingered over 
her dinner until mamma had to call down-stairs: 

"Go to the piano now, Nina, and waste no more time." 

"Yes, ma'am, I 'm going," is the answer, but first her 
hands must be washed ; then she stops to tell nurse something 
funny that happened in school, and the baby laughs and crows 
in such an irresistible way that Nina says: 

"Oh, I must play with him just a minute." 

Of course, after the romp, her hair needs smoothing, and 
the little girl thinks, "I may just as well braid it all over — it 
wont take much longer"; then she perhaps remembers that 
grandma forgot to give her any fruit for dinner, so off she 
runs to ask for some; the hands must then be washed again, 
and while that ceremony is being gone through, company 
comes in to see her mother, and the parlor is occupied until it 
is too late to go to the piano that day. 

When papa comes home, his first question is: 



A FEW OF OUR HABITS. 443 

''Well, little daughter, have you practiced your hour?'' 

And Nina hangs her head, and explains that she had put 
it off until all her afternoon was wasted. 

Then for punishment she would have to go to bed at seven 
o'clock instead of eight, and rise a whole hour earlier than 
everybody else next morning, in order to make up the practice 
lost the day before. 

Another frequent habit among both girls and boys, as well 
as among grown-up people, is exaggeration, or the use of much 
stronger language than the occasion warrants. If you are 
telling some little occurrence that you have seen, or repeating 
a story that has been told you, do not try to make it any more 
startling or marvelous than it really is, but adhere closely to 
the truth, regardless of effect. I have known persons to 
become so confirmed in the habit of exaggeration that it 
finally became impossible for them to give a simple fact cor- 
rectly, and though they did not intend telling falsehoods, and 
would have been shocked to know they were guilty of any- 
thing so wrong, they really were considered untruthful people 
by many of their acquaintances, and were disliked and dis- 
trusted in consequence. 

Try to speak the exact truth in little things. If you say 
the dust is perfectly ''frightful," when it is simply annoying, 
and the cold is "awful," when it merely makes your cheeks 
tingle, what meaning will be in the words you use to speak of 
a great railroad accident, or steam-boat disaster, or the burning 
of some theater where hundreds of people are mangled, 
crushed, and killed? Teach yourselves to employ simple 
forms of expression for simple occurrences, then the words you 
use will always have fitness and meaning. 

I wonder how many of you little people (or big people 
either, for that matter) would be willing to have your top 
bureau-drawer put on exhibition without any warning! I 
fancy I see a smile curHng the corners of several small mouths 
at that question. Now is the time to begin, if you ever wish to 
be an orderly, systematic man or woman ; remember the sim- 
ple rule so often quoted: "Have a place for everything, and 



444 HOME TOPICS. 

keep everything in its place"; and though at first you will 
have some trouble in following it strictly, the good habit of 
order will soon be formed, and you and your friends will be 
spared a great deal of annoyance and discomfort. 

An exceedingly good habit to fall into is that of thorough- 
ness. Never be satisfied with a piece of work, of any descrip- 
tion, unless you have done it just as well as you ''possibly" 
could; for people who do things thoroughly are ''such" a com- 
fort in this world of carelessness — a comfort to themselves, and 
a comfort to all who come in contact with them; their work 
never has to be done over again, but is always satisfactory. 
This little virtue can be cultivated in every act of your lives — 
at home and in school, in dusting a room, making a doll-dress, 
studying, or practicing a music lesson. If builders should not 
be particular to put every brick in the exact place it ought to 
occupy, our houses would fall down upon our heads; and if 
some little piece of machinery should be carelessly made in 
the engines of our trains and steam-boats, the consequence 
would be railroad wrecks and explosions every day. So you 
see how necessary it is- for the safety of our lives that men 
should be trained to do their work thoroughly; and if the 
habit is not formed during youth, it is almost an impossibility 
to acquire it in after life, when men find it hard to learn new 
ways. 

Now I have suggested several habits — some bad, to get out 
of and others good, to get into; and I will end by telling you 
of another, which is worth more than a fortune to the boy or 
girl who will take the trouble to form it, for with "persever- 
ance" one can gain almost any good thing in life that he or 
she desires. Patient perseverance conquers almost all difficul- 
ties. Just try for yourselves, and see if it does not. This 
habit can be gained while you are working fpr the other good 
ones of which I have spoken, and I am sure that will be a very 
nice way to begin its cultivation. 

Suppose you all adopt the plan of writing on a sheet of 
paper the bad habits you have, and the good ones you wish to 
exchange them for. Then pin the list on the inside of your 



ALWAYS BEHINDHAND. 445 

bedroom door, and read it over carefully every morning- 
before breakfast; this will help you to remember through the 
day the position, advantages, and disadvantages of the battle- 
field, and you will be better prepared to guard against a sur- 
prise from the enemy. 



ALWAYS BEHINDHAND. 

SUPPER was ready and waiting. Our guest had not 
arrived, but there was another train an hour later. Should 
the family wait for my friend, or should I alone, who was the 
personage especially to be visited? My father paced the floor 
nervously, as was his wont when he felt disturbed. He had 
the evening papers to read, and he never opened them until 
after tea. This was a habit of his. He was very fixed — or, 
as some express it, ''set" — in his little ways. It was Bridget's 
evening out, and she had begun to show a darkened visage. 
Bridget was no friend to ''company," and it was policy to con- 
ciliate her. So the family seated themselves at the table, and I 
sat near, waiting until brother John should be ready to accom- 
pany me a second time to the station. 

"What about this young lady friend of yours, Nelly?" 
asked my father. "Is she one of the unreliable sort — a little 
addicted to tardiness, that is?" 

"I am obliged to confess, papa, that at boarding-school, 
where I longest knew Jeannette, she was inclined to be dila- 
tory ; but that was years ago. It is to be hoped that she has 
changed since then." 

"I should wish to have very little to do with a behindhand 
person," said my father, shaking his head very gravely. 

"Oh, papa!" I remonstrated, "you will not condemn a 
dear friend for one single fault. Jeannette is beautiful and 
accomplished, sensible and good-tempered. Everybody thinks 
she is splendid." 



446 HOME TOPICS. 

"She may have very pleasant quahtles, but I tell you, 
girls," he added, with sudden emphasis, "that a want of punc- 
tuality vitiates the whole character. No one is good for much 
who cannot be depended upon; and what dependence is to be 
placed on a man who is not up to his engagements? In busi- 
ness, such a man is nowhere; and in social life a dawdling, 
dilatory man or woman is simply a pest. But mind, my child, 
I am not characterizing your friend; we cannot tell about her 
till we see." 

The later train brought my friend. She was profuse in her 
regrets; she had been belated by a mistake in the time; her 
watch was slow. As she was pouring forth a torrent of 
regrets and apologies, I observed my father bestowing glances 
of evident admiration at the fair speaker, while the rich color 
came and went in her cheeks, and her eyes kindled with ani- 
mation. Truly, beauty covers a multitude of faults. Sister 
Bell, who was as punctual as my father, was appeased, and 
promised to take care of the tea-things and let Bridget go out. 
My father good-naturedly offered to regulate the halting watch 
by the true time. 

To her chamber we went together, to talk as girls do talk 
when they meet in this way, after a long separation. Folding 
me in her arms, she told me all about her recent engagement 
to George Allibone; showed me her engagement- ring, and her 
lover's photograph. It was a noble head, finely poised, and a 
most engaging face, and my ready and cordial admiration was 
a new bond of sympathy. It took nearly until midnight to say 
all that we girls, aged twenty, had to say to each other; and this, 
in addition to the fatigues of travel, was accepted as an excuse 
for Jenny's tardiness at breakfast. She really had meant to be 
early. 

But this was only the beginning. Throughout the whole 
three weeks of her visit, she was scarcely punctual in a single 
case where time was definitely appointed. She was late in 
rising, late at meals, late at church and for excursions, and, to 
our profound mortification, late for dinner appointments, even 
when parties were made especially on her account. She 



ALWAYS BEHINDHAND. 447 

seemed sorry and mortified, but on each occasion she would 
do the same thing over again. 

" What ca7t she be doing ?" my mother sometimes asked in 
perplexity, when my sister and I were ready and waiting. 

''Doing her hair, mother," we answered; ''and she will do 
it over until it suits her, be it early or late." 

" Oh, these hair- works !" sighed my mother. " How much 
tardiness at church and elsewhere is due to over-fastidious 
hair-dressing ! What is that line of good George Herbert's ? 
'Stay not for the other pin.' I think he must have meant 
hair-pins." 

My sister and I sometimes agreed between ourselves to 
compel her to readiness by standing by, to help her in her 
preparations ; but in vain. She must write a letter or finish a 
story before making her toilet. Why not accomplish the toilet 
first, to be sure of it — any time remaining, for the other pur- 
poses ? She did n't like to do so. No philosopher could tell 
why. It is an unaccountable, mysterious something rooted 
deep in some people's natures — this aversion of being before- 
hand. I have seen it in other people since the time when it 
so puzzled and troubled me in Jenny. It marred the pleasure 
of the visit most miserably. I was continually fearing the dis- 
pleasure of my father and the discomfort of my mother. The 
whole household were disturbed by what seemed to them 
downright rudeness. 

" Now, Jenny," I would plead, " do be early, dear, when 
papa comes with the carriage. It annoys him dreadfully to 
wait." 

She would promise to " try." 

" But pray, Jenny, why need you have to try ? It is easy 
enough. For my part, I never will make any one wait 
for me. I go without being ready, if need be, or I stay 
behind." 

I had come to talk very plainly to her, out of love and 
good-will, as well as, sometimes, from vexation of spirit. For 
the twentieth time she would tell me how truly she had meant 
to be punctual in some given case, and that she should have 



448 HOME TOPICS. 

been so but that she was hindered when nearly ready by 
some unforeseen occurrence. 

" But, my dear, unforeseen hinderances will often occur, 
and you must lay your account with them, and give yourself 
extra time. You will run the risk of meeting- some great 
calamity by trusting, as you do, to the last minute." 

And the calamity did befall her. Mr. Allibone spent a 
day with us. We were anticipating with great pleasure a 
second visit, when a telegram arrived, requesting Jenny to 
meet him in Boston on the succeeding morning. A business 
emergency had summoned him abroad very suddenly, and he 
was to embark for Liverpool in the evening. 

We all sympathized with Jenny in the startling effect of 
this sudden announcement, and offered her every sort of help 
when the hour for her departure was at hand. She had only 
to compose herself and prepare for the journey. Sister Bell 
would arrange her hair and bring her dress, and she would be 
spared all effort. She seemed grateful, but was sure she could 
be ready without troubling any one. She dreamed not how 
much she was, even then, troubling us, for we were beginning 
to tremble lest she should somehow manage to be late for this, 
her only train. 

She kissed us all twice over when the hackman arrived at 
the door; but, suddenly glancing in the mirror and observing 
how ashen was her usually brilliant complexion, she declared 
against wearing the gray cashmere in which she was dressed, 
of a hue so like her face. George must not meet her thus. 
She seized her black silk, with which, in spite of remonstrances, 
she proceeded to array herself There was time enough ; the 
carriage must surely be too early. Alas! for the ripping out 
of gathers, in the violence of her haste, and for the loopings of 
her skirt, not to be dispensed with ! Horses could not be 
made to do the work of five minutes in three. 

She saw the cars move off without her ! 

No words were called for. My mother carried a glass of 
elderberry wine to the poor girl, and left her alone to her tears. 
They would do her good. 



ALWAYS BEHINDHAND. 449 

We ourselves needed rest, after the troubled scene of hurry 
and excitement, and we sat down, feeling as if a whirlwind had 
passed. 

*' It is beyond my comprehension," said my father, when he 
came home to dinner. *' I can understand tardiness," he con- 
tinued, categorically, ** as the result of indolence. Lazy people 
dread effort and postpone it. There is a man in my employ 
who continues to work sometimes after hours. The men tell 
me that he is actually too lazy to leave off work and put away 
his tools. But Miss Jeannette seems active and energetic." 

*' She miscalculates, papa," I said. *' She always imagines 
there is plenty of time until the last minute." 

'' But herein is the mystery," persisted my father. " Whence 
this uniformity of dereliction ? Why not sometimes too early 
and sometimes just in the right time, instead of always and 
everywhere late, and making others late ?" 

" Poor girl ! " said my mother, whose compassion was up- 
permost. '' I pity her with all my heart; yet it is not a case 
of life and death. This trial may be attended with beneficial 
results. We will hope so." 

I am sorry that this hope was apparently not to be realized. 
The lesson failed to be read aright. Jeannette recovered her 
serenity, and resumed her tardy ways. A yet severer lesson 
was needed, and it came. 

The steamer in which, after an absence of ten or twelve 
weeks, George Allibone was to embark for home, was lost, and 
not a passenger saved. 

My father took me at once to my poor stricken friend, in 
her distant home. Pale and dumb with grief, yet with tearless 
eyes, she let us take her almost hfeless hand. From her blood- 
less lips came only the low, anguished cry, '' If only I had 
said farewell !" 

What comfort in words ? We offered none. My father's 
eyes brimmed over, and my heart was breaking for my poor 
Jeannette. 

But relief came speedily. The joyful news was received 
that George was safe, having made a necessary change in his 
29 



450 HOME TOPICS. 

plans, and would arrive in a fortnight. Jeannette came up from 
the depths. What should her thank-offering be ? She made 
the resolution to become at once faithful to her appointments, 
prompt and reliable. It was not that she would try — she 
would speak the commanding words, *' I will." 

She has kept her resolution. Writing to me, after a lapse 
of years, she said: ''You will hardly know your dilatory friend. 
I remember and practice your advice of former years, to be 
first ready for my appointments, and to reserve other work for 
the interval of waiting after I am ready. It is surprising how 
often I find not a moment left for waiting. Still I feel the old 
tendency to procrastinate, and I am obliged steadfastly to 
resist it. 'Delays are dangerous,' as our old writing-copies 
used to run ; the sentiment is hackneyed, but oh, how true ! 
George says he owes you ten thousand thanks for your faithful 
counsel, and we shall speak them when you make us the visit 
of which we feel so sure, because your promises, as I well know, 
are faithfully kept." 



GRANDMOTHER. 

FOR a long time I did not understand it at all. I thought 
that, because grandmothers were often feeble and old-fash- 
ioned, they could never really feel as we children do ; that they 
needed no particular notice or enjoyment, for it was their nature 
to sit in rocking-chairs and knit. They seemed quite different 
from the rest of the world, and not to be especially thought 
about — that is, by girls who were as full of merry plans as we 
were. 

Grandmother lived with us, as father was her only son. We 
had a vague idea that she helped mother mend the clothes and 
knitted all father's stockings, besides some pairs for the church 
society. We were supposed to love her, of course, and were 
never openly rude, for, indeed, we had been taught to be polite 



GRANDMOTHER. 45 1 

to all aged persons. As for grandmother, she was one of those 
peaceful souls who never make any trouble, but just go on their 
own way so quietly that you hardly know they are in the house. 
Mother sat with her sometimes, but we girls, in our gay, busy 
pursuits, rarely thought of such a thing. She seemed to have 
no part in our existence. It went on so for some time, till one 
day I happened at sundown to go into the sitting-room, and 
there sat grandmother, alone. She had fallen asleep in her 
chair by the window. The sun was just sinking out of sight, 
leaving a glory of light as he went down, and in this glory I 
saw my grandmother — saw her really for the first time in my 
life. She had been reading her Bible, and then, as if there had 
been no need of reading more, since its treasure already lay 
shining in her soul^ she had turned the book over upon her 
lap and leaned back to enjoy the evening. I saw it all in a 
moment, — her gentleness, her patience, her holiness. Then, 
while her love and beautiful dignity seemed to fold about me 
like a bright cloud, the sweet, every-day lines in her face told 
me a secret, that even then in the wonderful sunset of life she 
was oh, how human ! So human that she missed old faces and 
old scenes ; so human that she needed a share of what God 
was giving us — friends, home interests, little surprises and 
expectations, loving offices, and, above all, a recognition in the 
details of our fresh young lives. Girls ! when grandmother 
woke up, she found us all three stealing softly into the room, 
for God helped me when I went to tell my sisters about it. 
Mary only kissed her, and asked if she had had a good nap ; 
Susie picked her ball of yarn off the carpet where it had rolled, 
and began to wind it, all the while telling her a pleasant bit of 
news about one of the school-girls ; and I — well, I knelt down 
at grandmother's feet, and, just as I was going to cry, I gave 
her knees a good, hard hug, and told her she was a darling. 

That 's all, girls. But it 's been different ever since from 
what it was before. 



452 HOME TOPICS. 

READY FOR EUROPE. 

A GOOD many of you girls who read this will go to Europe 
some day or other. Just now, perhaps, you don't think or 
care much about it; but by and by, when you are older, and 
hear people who have been there talk of their doings and see- 
ings, the desire to go will strengthen, and you will wish it very 
much indeed. There are some persons who will tell you that 
this desire is foolish and wTong; that going to Europe is just 
now the fashion, and silly folks who like to follow the fashions 
go for that reason. But I think this a mistake. To travel any- 
where, intelligently, has a great deal of education in it, and 
for an American to go to Europe, where is so much we can- 
not as yet have in our own country, is education of the very 
best sort. 

I want, therefore, to talk about this journey which some of 
you are to take, and the way in which to get the greatest good 
and pleasure out of it. This is not to make any one discon- 
tented who cannot go. That would be a pity, indeed. But 
nobody knows beforehand what their chances are going to be ; 
and as business, or sickness, or unforeseen changes of various 
kinds may bring the opportunity to any of you when it is 
least looked for, it will not be lost time to get ready to take 
advantage of it should it come. Then, if it never comes, 
you will at least have had the improvement of getting ready, 
which in itself is a very good thing. 

First, then, let us decide what it is that makes it worth 
while to go at all. To be amused, to buy pretty things, and 
have what you girls call '^ a good time," is not enough. Good 
times and shopping and amusement are to be had in America; 
it would scarcely pay to cross the Atlantic in search of them, 
though they are nice things to catch at by the way. A great 
many do go with no other wish or idea in their minds ; but 
something higher there must be, or the wise would not follow 
their example. 

To begin with, then : there are better chances for study in 
certain branches than we can have at home. The most famous 



READY FOR EUROPE. 453 

masters for music and painting live in Europe, and languages 
can be acquired there more readily and perfectly than with us. 
To pick up French or German by the ear, as a little child does, 
is indeed learning made easy. It is thus that children on the 
Continent are taught. It is nothing uncommon to find a girl of 
eighteen who speaks and thinks equally well in four or five 
tongues. She has had a French nurse, and a German, and an 
Italian ; or has gone to school in the different countries ; and 
as people about her are using the languages continually, her 
chance for practice is perpetual, and a good accent comes 
without trouble. Each little Russian boy, when admitted to. 
the Government schools, is required to speak French and 
German ; and Russian parents often carry their families to 
spend a year or two in France and Germany, so that they 
may absorb languages, as it were, without knowing that there 
is any difficulty in the matter. 

But apart from actual study, — for some of you will not 
have time for that, — there is great and constant instruction to 
be gained by what you see. We read in books about won- 
derful things, such as cathedrals, temples, Alpine scenery, 
Raphael's Madonnas; but, however hard we try, we cannot 
distinctly picture them until we see. One hour spent in a 
real cathedral teaches more of the true meaning and glory 
of architecture than weeks spent over books. One glance at 
a snow-peak sets an image in our brain which never could 
have been there without that glance. I once heard a lady 
say that she was sure she knew just how Mont Blanc must 
look, because it was just twice and a half as high as Mount 
Washington, and she could easily imagine two and a half 
Mount Washingtons piled on top of one another, and covered 
with snow! But when she came to see the actual Mont Blanc, 
she found that none of her imaginary pilings-up had in the 
least prepared her for the look of the real thing. 

Then, it is not only certain great objects which are made 
real to us by seeing them, but also everything, however small, 
which we have learned about or been told of We read Hume 
and Gibbon, and that this or that happened in such a year or 



454 HOME TOPICS. 

such a reign, but It is all dim and fabulous, and must be, so 
long as it is merely a statement on a printed page. One visit 
to the Tower or the Forum makes a sudden change. The 
fabulous becomes distinct. It is like sunlight flashing into a 
dusky corner. And the best of all is, that the sunHght stays ; 
and facts never go off again into the vague distance where they 
were before, but remain near and clear forever to your mind. 

I want to warn you of one disagreeable thing sure to hap- 
pen, which is, that the minute you visit any of these celebrated 
places, a sharp and mortifying sense of ignorance will take 
possession of you. '* Dear me, who was Guy, Earl of War- 
wick?" you will ask yourself. " And Lady Jane Grey's father, 
— I can't recollect his name at all, — and why was it that they 
cut off her head?" Then the guide will lead the way into a 
dark cell, and tell you it was Sir Walter Raleigh's bed-chamber 
during his long imprisonment, and you will conjure up a 
vague recollection of the great Sir Walter, as a young man 
flinging his cloak down before the Queen, and will long to 
know more, except that the party is moving on, and you are 
ashamed to ask. Or, if it is in Rome that you happen to be 
sight-seeing, you will trip down the long steps which lead into 
the great Forum, and look at the beautiful groups of columns 
and the broken arches, and all at once it will come to you with 
a shock that you know nothing at all about the Forum ; that 
up to this time it has only been a name in your memory. In 
a general way, you have gathered that it was the place where 
the Roman senators and people met to discuss public matters, 
but it does n't look in the least as you had expected it would ; 
and besides, you hear of other forums, many others, in differ- 
ent parts of the city, and instead of enjoying intelligently, you 
stand bewildered and confused, and listen helplessly while 
some one reads a few bald pages of Murray's guide-book ; and 
the guide explains what he does n't know, in Italian which you 
don't understand. You long to go straight home, hunt up the 
proper books, study the subject well, and then come back and 
see the Forum again. But, alas ! the books are in the home 
book-case in America, and the Roman Circulating Library 



READY FOR EUROPE. 455 

seems to have nothing in it but novels ; and even if it had, 
what time could you find to read where there is so much to be 
seen and done ? All that is left is for you to put the matter 
aside, with a dull, unsatisfied feeling, and resolve to find out 
about it when you can ; but before that time comes, the full, 
fresh interest will have worn off. And oh ! what a pity it was 
that you could not have been prepared before you went there! 

Every traveler feels this want at times, even the best- 
educated ones, for no education is so complete as to prepare 
its owner on all points and against all surprises. What the 
ill-educated ones lose cannot be calculated! It is like voyag- 
ing with one eye blinded and the other half-shut. You see, 
hear, feel only a little piece of things, impressions enter your 
brain only part way, and what with the puzzle and vexation 
at your own ignorance and the sting of a missed opportunity, 
you go about with so much annoyance in your mind that you 
but half enjoy the delightful chance which perhaps will never 
be yours to enjoy again. 

So, dear girls, take my advice, and while you have libraries 
and leisure, and people ready to explain things, and a mind 
free to receive the explanations, get yourselves ready to profit 
by what may come. You will be very glad afterward. Every 
subject carefully looked into, every bit of history tucked 
away into its proper place in your memory, every little inter- 
esting fact, every cell made ready for the reception of mental 
honey, will prove, when the right moment comes, a thing to 
be thankful for. Each scrap of French, or Italian, or German 
will find its place; each hard word, which seems so dry now, 
will be useful then; every fragment of scientific knowledge 
— nothing will be lost or valueless, and the most casual and 
unlikely thing may turn out to be a friend at need and a friend 
indeed. 

If you go in Rome to see the mosaic works belonging 
to the Government, you will find that the great pictures which 
you have admired on the walls of St. Peter's are made up of 
an immense number of small bits of stone and marble, chosen 
for their color, and fitted each into exactly its prepared place. 



456 HOME TOPICS. 

The mosaic workers who make the pictures would never think 
of beginning till the bits of marble were all ready, polished 
and sorted out. It would be awkward indeed to stop in the 
middle of the work, because there was no blue left with which 
to finish the Madonna's eye, or to leave a hole in the Saint's 
robe for the lack of half a dozen little red stones. 

I want you to imitate their carefulness, and get ready these 
precious small bits of knowledge before the time comes to 
work them into the beautiful whole. Then, when the great 
chance arrives, your material will be ready, and, fitting one 
with another, a valuable thing will grow of them, which will 
be yours for life. But don't let the pattern be spoiled for lack 
of a tiny scrap of this or that which you have not had the 
forethought to prepare in time. 

And just one thing more. Let your minds grow as fast 
as they will, but let your souls grow, too. Don't go about 
regarding the nations of the earth in general as ''queer 
foreigners," who must be undervalued and scorned because 
their ways are not like our own. To us our own ways seem 
best, but there is good everywhere, and things are not neces- 
sarily ridiculous because they differ from those which we are 
accustomed to. And then, though you must n't think I want 
to preach, God has made all men of one family, and, in spite 
of varieties of complexion, tastes, and habits, all have the 
same needs, the same human nature, the same death to die, 
the same Everlasting Father, and so all, in a sense, are brothers 
and sisters to each other. This thought going along with you, 
charity, patience, and kindliness will go too; blessed fellow- 
travelers these, and good helpers on the road. Your mind will 
widen, your sympathies grow big, and all the Avorld become 
wonderful and dehghtful, as it must always be to people whose 
hearts are large enough to take it in. After a journey made in 
this spirit, you will come back, as American girls should come, 
not merely with Paris bonnets and Genoese filigree, but sweeter 
and stronger than when you went away ; wiser, too, and better 
fitted to see the meanings of things at home, and take your 
place as dwellers in a free land. For, beautiful, i\nd instruct- 




GIOTTO'S CAMPANILE, OR BELL-TOWER, IN FLORENCE. 



WHY NELLIE WAS NOT POPULAR. 457 

ive, and full of charm as Europe is, to be an American in the 
true sense of the word is better yet; and I hope you will all 
continue to feel that, however many times you go abroad. 



WHY NELLIE WAS NOT POPULAR. 

''TT7ELL, Nellie, what is the matter?" asked Miss Percy, 
V \ as she seated herself in a straw rocker on the piazza, 
where Nellie sat, chin in hand, pouting over a portfolio of 
prints that lay outspread before her. 

'' I 'm mad ! " was the reply. 

''Mad ! That is distressing. I hope you don't bite." 

"Oh, of course I don't mean that!'' said Nellie, turning 
away from the pictures with an injured air. " I am vexed ! " 

"Then why did you say mad? " 

" Oh, you are so particular, Aunt Alice ! What do you 
think Kate Sibley has done ? " 

" I cannot imagine." 

" Her mother gave her leave to invite three of the girls to 
go with her to the picnic in Cedar Creek, and she asked the 
Morrisons, and Minnie DuBose, and left me out, though I have 
worked every one of her examples ever since we have been in 
denominate numbers. It is just the way with them all. I do 
everything they ask me to do, and they all hate me. I '11 be 
even with them, though — I '11 hate them, too." 

And the future misanthrope began to sniffle and use hcr 
pocket-handkerchief 

" Don't you think it would be a wiser plan to make them 
love you ? " asked Miss Percy, gravely. 

" I can't do it," replied a choky voice from behind the 
handkerchief " I have tried, but I ca-an't. They aU Hke 
Rosa Guignard, who never does anything for anybody, but — 
but " 



458 HOME TOPICS. 

As Nellie did not seem able to finish what she wished to 
say, Miss Percy came to her relief by observing, quietly : 

'' The girls all like Rosa on account of a very rare gift which 
she possesses." 

''Rose Guignard gifted ! " exclaimed Nellie, surprised into 
forgetfulness of her wrongs. " Why, Aunt Alice, she is 'way 
down in all her classes, and you know she isn't pretty — that 
is, until you get used to her." 

*' But it is a much rarer gift than either intellect or beauty, 
that which Rosa possesses," returned Miss Percy. 

Nellie's red-rimmed eyes asked a question to which Miss 
Percy replied with brevity, ''Tact." 

" Tact ? What is that ? " asked Nellie. 

" I don't know any better definition of the word than one a 
great novelist has given : ' Tact is knowing what not to say.' " 

" Don't /know what not to say, Aunt Alice ? " asked Nel- 
lie, after a short silence. 

" No, my dear ; I don't think you do. You will take 
offense, probably, if I give you a few examples as proofs of 
this ; but as I am in your mother's place this summer, I shall 
take the liberty of speaking plainly. Do you remember who 
were in the company yesterday when you coolly asserted that 
' the Roman Catholic religion was nothing but mummery,' and 
went on to observe that, for your part, you looked upon a 
Romanist as no better than a Mohammedan, or a Jew ? " 

"There were so many — such a roomful — that I cannot 

Oh, Aunt Alice! I do remember now! Mademoiselle 

Durand was here, and she is a Romanist. I am so sorry ! " 

*' And Miss Lyons was here also, and she is a devout Jew- 
ess. Did you notice that she kissed Kate Sibley when she 
went away, and did not kiss you ? " 

" Yes ; and I wondered what was the matter. But made- 
moiselle kissed me." 

" Yes, mademoiselle kissed you, although the flush had not 
died out of her cheeks which your thoughtless words had called 
up ; and thereby showed herself to be, what Miss Lyons is not, 
a follower of Him who, when He zvas reviled, reviled not again.'' 



WHY NELLIE WAS NOT POPULAR. 459 

" Well, Aunt Alice, I did n't mean any harm ; and you 
know everybody makes mistakes once in a while." 

" But you make mistakes a great deal oftener than other 
people do. Shall I give some other instances of your not 
setting a watch on your lips ? " 

" If you like." 

"Don't be sulky about it. I am 'cruel only to be kind.' 
When we were told the other evening that Miss ColHns had 
small-pox, you immediately declared that if you were in her 
place you would rather die at once than get well and be a 
fright all the rest of your life. It was too dark on the porch to 
see the expression on Miss Adger's deeply scarred face, but I 
remember that lady's next remark was, 'I can't endure pert 
children.' " 

*' You can't expect me to see in the dark," muttered Nellie. 

" No ; but you ought to have remembered Miss Adger's 
presence. And you have not darkness for an excuse for what 
you said yesterday before Miss Pratt — that you believed all 
red-haired persons had bad tempers." 

" Of course, I meant present company excepted." 

" It would have been better not to mention red hair at all 
in Miss Pratt's presence, as her hair, though beautiful, is 
decidedly of a reddish tint. You made another blunder 
yesterday, and I think if old Dr. Manning had had Elisha's 
power, you would have stood in considerable danger of being 
torn to pieces by the bears after your facetious remark on the 
subject of bald heads." 

" Oh, I never thought about his being bald ! " 

" But, my dear child, these are matters that ought to be 
thought about. Let me give you one plain, simple rule, 
Nellie : Never remind any one of his or her personal defects .'' 

** I '11 try to remember that." 

"There is another thing you would do well to remember — 
that comparisons are odious. When Kate Sibley played the 
'Beautiful Blue Danube Waltzes' for me the other evening, it 
was scarcely polite in you to exclaim, as soon as she had fin- 
ished, ' Oh, Aunt Alice, you ought to hear Minnie DuBose 



46o HOME TOPICS. 

play that ! She does play it beautifully I ' Later in the 
evening, when I asked Kate for the ' Etude Mazurka,' she 
replied, ' Oh, you must wait and get Minnie DuBose to play 
that, as Nellie says she does play beautifully.' " 

*' Resentful creature ! ^Well, at any rate, I have never said 
anything against Kate's looks'' 

"No; on the contrary, I once heard you remark, in th. 
presence of a dozen of her school-mates, that she was by fai^ 
the prettiest girl in Mr. Radford's school ; but then you went 
on to qualify your praise by coolly observing, * However, I 
don't think that is saying 7nuch for her.' You showed more 
temerity than I imagined ^nqw you were possessed of in giving 
so many young girls to understand that you did not consider 
them at all pretty." 

''Well, I dont think them pretty." 

" Nor interesting either. At least, so I judged the other 
night when, as they were going away, you observed, yawn- 
ingly, 'Only ten o'clock! I thought it was a great deal later 
than that.' You are an unselfish child, Nellie, and always 
ready to give up your own pleasure to oblige your friends; 
but you will never be popular until you learn to bear this in 
mind, that, although it is always wrong to tell falsehoods, it 
does not follow that it is always right to tell uncalled-for 
truths." 



CHILDREN WHO WORK. 

LOOKING up with one of the sweetest little smiles in her 
baby-face, a small girl, perhaps seven or eight years of 
age, replied to my question: 
"I work at feathers." 

Hers was not the rosy, dimpled child-face whose type is 
familiar in all our happy homes. She was thin in flesh, and 
pale; yet the bright, mirthful eyes, and the peculiarly infantile 



CHILDREN WHO WORK. 461 

expression about the mouth, intimated that happiness and love 
were not altogether strangers to her life. 

It was in one of the evening, or *' night" schools, as they 
are more properly called, of New York City, and she was one 
of the hundred thousand working children in that metropolis, 
who, after a day of toil, try these uncertain night-paths to 
knowledge. 

Do you care to hear her brief story ? 

She was ten years of age — none are admitted to the even- 
ing schools younger than that. Her sister, not yet old enough 
to come to school, worked with her at stripping feathers in an 
establishment on Walker street. 

"What kind of feathers are they, and what kind of work is 
stripping feathers ? " we asked. 

*'Why, like that in your hat," said the bright little creature, 
looking astonished at my ignorance. "That is what they are 
like when we have finished them; but we girls work at them 
before they are dyed. I make about three dollars a week, and 
my sister — she is only six years old — she does not make as 
much; sometimes a dollar a week, sometimes more." 

Her father was dead, and her sickly mother could earn but 
a Httle money by sewing. Such is the pitiful story of thou- 
sands in this great Babel of business, pleasure, wealth, poverty, 
fashion, and suffering. 

Soon the invalid mother will pass away, confiding her httle 
ones to the mercy of a heavenly Father. Will he send guard- 
ian angels to watch over them, to protect their little steps, and 
strengthen them for a struggle with the destiny which stares 
them in the face, and that seems inevitable ? 

Ah ! if these little children were ours ! But they are not. 
We can go away and forget them. Our little ones are safely 
housed and kept. Man is not his brother's keeper, and we are 
not bound to look after other people's children. 

That peculiar expression of the child's mouth ! How it 
carries me home to a face much smaller and younger, belong- 
ing to a little sprite who shall never work ten hours a day at 
"'feathers." 



462 HOME TOPICS. 

But how do I know what she will do ? How many or how 
few unfortunate turns of the inexorable wheel of human events 
would be necessary to place her there, side by side with those 
sad little toilers ? 

Alas ! why must we be so selfish that we can feel nothing 
but that which touches ourselves, our hearts, oitr pleasures, or 
our pockets ? 

And since so many children are born into the world with- 
out competent protectors from its evils, why is innocence left 
in ignorance and poverty, to stumble and fall under tempta- 
tion ? And when is that ever-present enigma to be solved 
which Carlyle suggests as the great problem of life : "So 
many shirts in the world, and so many shirtless backs ; how to 
get the shirtless backs into the shirts ?" 

So many little unprotected children in the world, and so 
many rich men and women with warm human hearts : how to 
get these children into these hearts ? How to show people 
who are anxious to save a suffering and perishing world that 
the place to begin is the cradle, just as they would begin with 
a very young plant in order to fashion the tree in symmetry. 

Inquiries by the United States Commissioner of Education, 
seeking the solution of such problems, have elicited facts 
respecting the number and condition of the poor children in 
this city, which, it is believed, will be of interest to every think- 
ing man and woman in the country. 

How few residents of Manhattan Island realize, or are even 
aware of the fact, that within its confines are at least one hun- 
dred thousand children — the adjacent cities contain perhaps as 
many more — to whom the morning light on six days of the 
week brings only toil. For these children there are no 
schools, no nuttings in the woods, no bright walks in Central 
Park. They are prematurely burdened with the cares of life ; 
dwarfed in stature from the lack of proper nutriment ; by con- 
finement in the bad air of workshops ; by the bearing of heavy 
burdens, and the deprivation of such recreations as a normal 
childhood imperatively demands. They may be seen in the 
early morning, in all portions of the city, among the laboring 



CHILDREN WHO WORK. 463; 

throng, hastening with serious mien to the service of the 
day. 

When Briareus-handed industry knocks at the gates of the 
morning, we are apt to think only of strong men and healthy 
women. But here, side by side with these, are frail little 
forms, too often but poorly protected against the wintry blast. 

Did you, reader, ever reflect that many children begin the 
terrible struggle of life for food, shelter, and clothing at aa 
age when others are scarcely out of their cradles ? 

Bestow more than a passing glance upon these little ones 
now, if you never did before. It is much too early for school, 
yet each child is carrying what appears to be a lunch, in 
basket, paper, or bag. Evidently they belong to this class of 
working children. The lunch will be needed at noon; for ten 
hours must pass before the tired feet can take their home- 
ward way. 

Where are the children going ? What do they find to do ? 

If you care to know, go with me to the night schools, and 
afterward to the various factories where these night students 
toil. The teachers keep upon the school registers a faithful 
record of the employment of each pupil, and among them,, 
probably, almost every occupation which the wants of man 
sustain is represented, either by adult students or children. 

You will be astonished by the vast number of occupations 
in which boys and girls under the age of fifteen years are 
made to earn from fifty cents to five dollars per week. Nearly 
two hundred different employments are recorded in a single 
school for boys. They manufacture ink, tassels, tin boxes, 
whalebones, whips, tobacco, toys, soap, shirts, ropes, picture- 
frames, paper collars and boxes, mineral waters, fans, feathers, 
corks, chignons, brushes, brier-wood pipes, bonnet-frames, 
bottles, bags, beads, artificial flowers, and bird-cages. They 
are apprentice-boys, cash and errand boys; they work at hair- 
picking and map-coloring; they post bills and 'tend stands. 
Two have given their occupation as *' sexton's assistant." 
Some of these trades are rather high-sounding for boys, such 
as blacksmithing, carpentering, and architecture; but it w^ould 



464 HOME TOPICS. 

seem that nearly every business pursued by adults admits of the 
employment of children in some of its more simple details. 

In the girls' schools, many of these same employments are 
registered as followed by them. It seems evident that parents 
of the little workers are not particular what the children do, 
so that it brings them bread. While boys make ladies' chig- 
nons, girls run on errands for the stores. On the register of 
one night school for girls are recorded the names of fifty as 
'' errands " for a single large dry-goods firm. 

Frequently items appear upon the registers indicating a 
little sentiment of pride or ambition in these night students. 
The hotel chamber-maid or cook invariably gives her occupa- 
tion as ''housekeeper." One little girl of eleven years pro- 
fesses to be a ''saleslady." Eighty little girls at one school 
are registered as "nurses." They are employed all day at 
home " taking care of the baby while mother goes out to 
wash." Some quite small girls, working in type-foundries, 
give their occupation as " type-setting " ; but their work is 
merely placing the types in rows upon a " setting-stick." 

Having visited as many night schools as possible in our 
limited time, and learned from the younger children where 
they or any children they may know work, we are ready to 
begin our tour of the factories and workshops. 

The Commissioner of Education in Washington wishes to 
ascertain, as nearly as possible, how many children under fif- 
teen years of age are pursuing " vocations " instead of being 
in school. But we soon find that it will not do to say any- 
thing about schools or school ages, if we wish to learn facts. 
A majority of employers were found to be either afraid or 
ashamed to acknowledge that they employ children. For 
instance, we know that children of both sexes are employed 
in cutting corks ; but gentlemen in that business, to whom we 
apply for information, declare that no children work for them. 

" How old are your youngest ' hands ' ? " 

"We have none younger than eleven or twelve." 

It seems, then, that workers of this age arc not considered 
as children by many employers, and we only arouse their 



CHILDREN WHO WORK. 465 

suspicion and opposition by calling them so. Therefore our 
inquiries in future will refer only to "young people" — boys 
and girls. We find a retired cork-cutter who informs us that 
the number of ''young people" employed in the business 
could not be less than one thousand, which number would be 
increased fivefold but for the extensive importation of corks 
ready cut. 

Three or four thousand girls work in the various book- 
binding establishments of the city. A part of the work is 
simple and suited to little children, such as folding and gather- 
ing the material. It is thought that at least half the girls 
working thus are under fifteen years of age. 

Large numbers of children are employed in the manufact- 
ure of envelopes, there being about eight thousand, it is said, 
in the city, fully one-fourth of whom are under fifteen years 
of age. They gum, separate, and sort the envelopes, being 
paid three and a half cents per thousand, and earning about 
three dollars per week. The work seems to be pleasant, clean, 
and the rooms tolerably well ventilated. In this and some 
other kinds of work, the chief objection seems to be, that 
while the children are earning their three dollars per week 
they cannot be in school, acquiring the education so necessary 
to arm and prepare them properly for the struggles and com- 
petitions of life. 

Some children give their occupation as workers in gold- 
leaf This work requires the careful exclusion of every breath 
of air from the room, the leaf is so very light. The one 
work-room we visited was better ventilated than I expected 
to find it, and much better than most establishments of the 
kind, it was stated — some air being admitted by keeping 
the room door leading to the front office open. Great skill 
is required in handling the thin, frail leaf, and most of the 
girls engaged in this work were found to be over thirteen 
years of age. 

Little children are registered as employed in "burnishing" 
china, silver, and gold ware. The idea that heedless child- 
hood could be trusted to polish our beautiful "sets," our silver 
30 



466 HOME TOPICS. 

tea-pots, pitchers, cups, and similar articles in gold, seemed so 
interesting that I took some trouble to see them work, and 
after going to three places where they had not time, or rather 
did not care to talk about it, found one gentleman who was 
willing to take the time. Here were girls, thirteen years of 
age and upward, sitting in rows before a long table, leaning 
forward, the handles of the burnishers — curious-looking steel 
instruments — pressed against the breast, and using them very 
skillfully in polishing a variety of beautiful and costly articles. 
When I remarked that this labor and the position of the 
worker must be very injurious, and liable to permanently 
injure the lungs, I was informed that the girls complain of 
little inconvenience after the first week or so, although men 
who sometimes work at burnishing find it necessary to wear 
breast-plates for protection. 

There are, it is thought, about eight thousand girls 
employed in the manufacture of paper collars, one-fourth of 
whom are under fifteen years of age. The youngest children 
bend the collars, and perform many other simple details of the 
work. The swiftness and skill attained by some of the older 
girls, in counting and putting up the collars, is truly astonish- 
ing. One whom I saw at work counts and boxes twenty 
thousand in a day of ten hours. Another, whose business is 
to paste linings on the button-holes of the collars, three on 
each, lined five thousand as a day's work. 

The making of paper boxes employs at least ten thousand 
children. An idea may be formed of the immense number of 
boxes that must be made, from the numbers and varieties to be 
seen thrown away every day, from the match-box up. In the 
class of shelf-boxes alone we are shown two hundred different 
sizes. The larger boxes are made in factories, but the mate- 
rial for the smaller and cheaper varieties is taken home by 
children and there ** worked up." Many become very expert 
in the use of the material. A teacher of a night school exhib- 
ited a present she had received from a pupil, of a miniature 
pasteboard house and lot, yard, garden, and outhouses 
complete. 



CHILDREN WHO WORK. 467 

But in all these hundreds of occupations which busy the 
skilled fingers of little children, the greatest number, and those 
of the most tender age, are engaged in the preparation of 
feathers, flowers, and tobacco — mere luxuries, yet considered 
so indispensable by a majority of men and women. 

Reader, if this fact should seem to you of any special sig- 
nificance, and if it should suggest serious thoughts occasion- 
ally, do not drive them away, but entertain them kindly. I do 
not desire to plant thorns in any of your flowers. Far from it. 
But may it not be hoped that the fine lady, luxuriating in forms 
of airy beauty, grace, and harmony, will sometimes think piti- 
fully and helpfully of the little children ; that the man of ease, 
contentedly smoking his pipe or cigar, or rolling the sweet 
morsel under his tongue, may occasionally be carried in 
imagination to the filthy rooms where young children — 
almost babes — spend the long day in *' stemming" the 
weed ? 

Do you think God intended childhood as a season for 
drudgery ? If not, can any of you suggest some good plan by 
which the " rights " of children may be secured to them ? 
Women who are already awake to some of the great issues of 
the hour, will you now arouse more fully to the importance of 
educating the children ? Is not the question a fundamental 
one ? And the rights of all children once secured, will not the 
world then be right ? 

With the addresses of a dozen or more feather and artificial 
flower establishments in various portions of the city, nearly 
three days were passed in the vain attempt to witness and 
sketch the simple operations of stripping or cutting feathers. 
The manufacturers in this business are remarkably fearful of 
the light, and have adopted stringent rules — unalterable as the 
laws of the Medes and Persians — excluding all visitors from 
their work-rooms ; but some of them refuse us politely, and 
invent the best excuses they can. 

One proprietor has no young girls at work, just now, either 
in the feathers or flowers ; another is making repairs ; one, 
whose refusal is expressed beforehand in his forbidding face, 



468 HOME TOPICS. 

informs us that he has " no time to be bothered ; the young 
people are well enough off; never you mind them." 

The gentleman in charge of the establishment on Walker 
street, where our little friend of the night school works, Avas 
polite and willing to give information, but as determined as 
others not to admit visitors. Another gentleman assured us 
frankly that no manufacturer of feathers and flowers in the 
city would allow visitors in his work-room, and the reason 
given is that each has particular patterns of his own, and fears 
that they may be copied by others. Some, it is stated, even 
send their '' hands " to seek work in other establishments, and, 
after a few days, take them back to enjoy the benefit of what 
they may have learned. 

When quite discouraged, we found a very small workshop, 
one of hundreds carried on in the city, employing about a 
dozen girls. The proprietor, a Frenchman, who is just com- 
mencing business, was not only willing to let us sketch the 
little girls at work, but desired a picture made of the larger 
girls curling the colored feathers and preparing the flowers. 
All seemed pleased with the idea of being " put into a book." 

Manufacturers of feathers and flowers have said that there 
were engaged in this work as many as ten thousand girls in 
New York and Brooklyn, two-thirds of whom are under fifteen 
years of age, and some as young as six and seven. The work 
done by the youngest children is simple, and manufacturers 
insist that it is very easy, consisting merely of stripping or cut- 
ting the feathers and stringing them, preparatory to dyeing, or 
preparing the material for flowers by equally simple operations. 
It is thought much more pleasant than any other work in 
which large numbers of children are engaged. The work- 
rooms are not foul with unhealthful odors, but are generally 
tolerably well ventilated. Yet the children do not thrive upon 
this '* easy " work. Few of them look as children should — fat, 
rosy, and cheerful. 

Many thousands of children, some of them very small, are 
at work in the tobacco factories of New York City. More than 
one thousand are employed by a single firm, and there are 



CHILDREN WHO WORK. 469 

hundreds of smaller establishments scattered through the city, 
sometimes consisting of merely the members of a single family. 
Permits to visit the larger factories are not easily obtained. In 
this craft, also, proprietors have methods of work which they 
jealously guard. 

" I have expostulated," said the manager of one of the old- 
est tobacco estabHshments, as he gave us a permit to visit the 
factories under his charge, " against the employment of young 
children; but the overseers say that the children will go else- 
where and get work ; that their parents are in want and need 
their labor, and so it seems impossible to avoid hiring them." 

In one of their factories the youngest child employed is 
four years of age, the oldest person a woman of eighty. They 
work side by side. 

Children so young as four years, we are told, are not regu- 
larly hired, but, in cases where their parents or guardians are 
employed, are brought with them for safe keeping, and as it is 
quite impossible for them to ''keep still" all the time, they are 
glad to imitate the others in "stemming," and are soon able to 
add a dollar to the weekly wages of mother, sister, or grand- 
mother. Thus they learn the business, and in the course of a 
year or two become regular "hands." 

I saw a very pretty little baby, certainly not more than four 
years of age, trying to learn. She looked very demure sitting 
upon an inverted basket, and occasionally glancing sidewise at 
visitors. Every worker in this room, we are told, is Irish; but 
this nurshng, with her prominent forehead, dehcate features, 
blue eyes, and golden hair, looks more like a stray fairy who 
has lost her way and fallen into the foulest and darkest of 
prisons. 

The entire building steams with the fumes of tobacco, and 
some of the rooms are positively unbearable to those not 
accustomed to the odor. The rooms where the women and 
children work are the least objectionable ; but they are dread- 
ful places for young children to grow up in. 

The youngest girls are separated from each other in their 
work by a goodly number of steady old women being placed 



470 HOME TOPICS. 

between them — ''otherwise, you know," said our cicerone, 
" the children would play." They sit upon benches, ranged 
along in regular rows, quite near together. At the end of 
every bench hang upon the wall numbers of hoop-skirts, ready 
for duty upon the street when it is time to go home, but 
unnecessary and inconvenient about the work. 

Ten thousand children, it is said, are working in tobacco, 
in New York and Brooklyn, for ten hours a day, six days of 
the week, and fully five thousand of them are believed to be 
under fifteen years of age. Children in many cases supply the 
places of more mature hands, and thus offer the employer an 
opportunity for gain not to be resisted as long as other 
manufacturers with whom he must compete employ this 
cheap labor. 

Were stringent laws passed, similar to those existing in 
some of the New England States, regulating the employment 
of children under a certain age, many of the employers would 
accept the change, and would cooperate with others in arrang- 
ing for a voluntary system of half-time schools ; while not a 
few declare that such a system "would n't work" — they 
"could n't be bothered with it." 

Tell them of the good results at Indian Orchard, and other 
places, from half-time schools, they say: "Oh, in New England 
things can be done that can't be done anywhere else. Besides, 
in New England they work more hours than we do here. Our 
children can have an extra two hours for evening school." 

I thought of the weary forms and heavy eyelids I had seen 
in all the evening schools with a feeling of despair. Could 
anything be more pitiful than the attempts of children, under 
such conditions of mind and body, to learn the difference 
between d and c, or to master the absurdities of our spelling ? 

In a subterranean apartment a few dozen boys are at work 
chopping the weed in its rough form, preparing it for the proc- 
ess of softening in brine for the " stemmers." A little light 
comes in from somewhere, enough for us to distinguish the 
utter dreariness of the scene. The little stove in the middle of 
the cellar fails to overcome the dampness of the atmosphere, 



CHILDREN WHO WORK. 4/1 

but the exercise seems to keep the boys warm. Most of them, 
as might be expected, are chewing- tobacco. 

Many other details of the work in tobacco, which must be 
passed over for want of space, are performed by boys and girls. 
An undersized girl of twelve we saw elevated upon a box 
feeding a large machine. Her labor, it is stated, is equal in 
quantity and quality to that of an adult. 

Interesting boys of ten or eleven were keeping the knives 
of a cutting machine clear by using a sponge saturated with 
rum, thus being brought in contact at once with two brother 
vices of society — rum and tobacco. They are getting their 
education. If they prove apt scholars we may expect them to 
graduate in a few years. 

In addition to the outrage of sacrificing the health and 
educational interests of children by keeping them at mechan- 
ical drudgery nearly all their waking hours, certain kinds 
of labor they perform are absolutely dangerous to life and 
limb. At the evening schools we heard of girls who, while 
working in twine manufactories, had lost one and two joints 
of their fingers. The principal of one school stated that last 
winter she had ten girls who had lost the initial finger from 
the right hand, and therefore could not be taught to write. 
One child, who learned to write with the left hand, came to 
school afterward with the initial finger of that hand also gone. 
it was taken off in the twisting machinery at a twine factory. 

Determined to see this terrible machine, we learned the 
address of the largest twine establishment in the city, and 
away up-town, nearly to Central Park, we went one bitter cold 
day — so cold that, to keep our courage up, it needed the 
reflection that little girls, thinly clad, struggle through such 
weather all winter long, plunge into it from hot work-rooms 
and with vitality consumed by labor in impure air. 

We found about three hundred persons at work, two hun- 
dred of them being children under fifteen years of age, and 
nearly all girls, who spin, wind, and twist the flax. 

We were shown a very picturesque machine for hackling 
the flax, tended by ten sturdy little boys of twelve or thirteen 



4/2 HOME TOPICS. 

years of age, five on each end. They were mounted upon a 
platform to enable them to reach and change the clamps which 
held the flax. This monster machine, which supersedes the 
small hacklers upon which our grandmothers dressed their 
flax, requires to be fed at either end continuously, and it 
works with the regularity and remorselessness of fate. Not 
discovering this peculiarity at first, and observing the boys 
working for dear life, we remarked to the proprietor: ''These 
boys seem to be trying to show off before you." 

"No," he replied, " the machine keeps them at it." 

" Is it not better for them than running in the streets ? " 
asked the proprietor. 

"Better than that, yes; but how are they to be educated?" 

"They nearly all go to evening schools." 

Studying in the evening after working like this all day ! 
No w^onder they fall asleep over their lessons. 

This tread-mill of a machine made me forget for a moment 
the terrible twisters we came to see. Only for a moment. 
Descending to the next floor we find a few women at work, 
and a few boys, but nearly all girls, of various ages, and 
engaged in many different labors, but all of one complexion 
— sooty, grimy, dusty, flaxy : all were dressed in a coarse 
skirt of hemp, often ragged and tattered. They ran from one 
corner of the room to another, carrying heavy boxes and 
armfuls of bobbins. You might almost imagine they were 
having a grand play, with such celerity do they fly from place 
to place; but the little faces are very sober, some thin and 
pale, and all appear to have arrived at a "realizing sense" of 
the burthens of life. There is one wielding a broom almost 
twice as high as herself, and almost as large around as her 
legs — the thinness of the latter showing painfully under her 
short, tattered dress. If she could go to the Children's Aid 
Society's schools for even a part of the day, they would dress 
her warmly, and give her at least one nourishing meal in the 
twenty-four hours. 

Here are the dreadful twisting machines, very disappoint- 
ing in appearance, seeming to be only long rows of spindles 



CHILDREN WHO WORK. 473 

stretching from one end of the room to the other, with nothing 
peculiarly dangerous about them. The proprietor is anxious 
to confirm the impression caused by their harmless appearance. 

"A few girls," he says, "have had their fingers hurt in 
these machines; but it was always in cases where they forgot 
or neglected their work to talk or play. The twisters are not 
more dangerous than other machines at which children work." 

I asked a little girl who had lost the fourth finger of her 
right hand how it happened, and she replied : 

"■ It was the rule that we go to help the others, and I went 
to help a girl, and she kept twisting the twine so," giving her 
hands a great flourish. " But my little finger always did 
stick out from the others, and it got caught among the flax, 
and I knew it would take my hand off, and I jerked it out 
with all my might, and only lost half the finger. If I had 
been slow, my hand would have been taken off." 

This is the simple story of a girl of twelve years. She was 
trying to imitate one more skillful than herself The stories of 
other fingers lost in twine factories would differ but slightly 
from this. A moment's forgetfulness of the danger, but one 
moment of yielding to the universal childish impulse to play, 
and the mischief is done. 

It is expected that penalties must follow violations of the 
law of mechanics, as of other laws, but children should not be 
placed in situations where so sad a penalty is the result of a 
moment's inattention. Their innocence and ignorance appeal 
for protection against the possibility of such calamities. An 
engine of 150 horse-power, driving a balance-wheel of 18,000 
pounds weight, is an irresistible force when it clashes with the 
little finger of a child. Should not children's fingers be pro- 
tected from the destruction threatened by such machinery, in 
some manner — by law if not otherwise ? 

But if the situation of children engaged in regular employ- 
ment is so sad, what can be said of those who are drifting 
about the streets of the city, without any real homes or steady 
employment, but supporting a miserable existence by such 
irregular work as they can obtain — living "by their wits"? 



474 HOME TOPICS. 

From fifteen to twenty thousand is considered a moderate 
estimate of the number of boys and girls situated thus in the 
midst of this great center of wealth and refinement. Many 
of these are orphans — others worse than orphans — children 
of criminals and poor wretches sunk deep in the degradation 
of drunkenness. Some are runaways from other cities ; some 
are children of emigrants whose parents die upon the way here ; 
some have fathers in the army and no mothers ; others have 
invalid mothers and no fathers. Their daily portion is hunger, 
cold, and misery of almost every description. They may be 
seen almost every day upon the street, bent double, staggering 
under heavy loads, sweeping the crossings, or begging. 
Sometimes they go without food until sick with hunger. 
Often their loathing of the miserable holes they call home is 
so great that they seek lodging in the station-house, and not 
unfrequently the beginning is made in crime for the sake of 
the shelter of even a prison over their heads. 

The work of the New York Juvenile Asylum has been 
often described. The Children's Aid Society is likewise doing 
a beneficent work for a portion of these outcasts by providing 
shelter, employment, food, and schools in the city, and perma- 
nent homes in the West. Six thousand sent to permanent 
homes, and twelve thousand aided to employment in some 
direction, during the period of seventeen years, is a great 
work in itself, but compared to that which needs to be done it 
is but a mite. The means of the Society are limited, and in 
other respects its operations are hampered by obstacles which 
a mere private enterprise must necessarily encounter. 

Why should not the State aid, if not sustain such efforts 
entirely, by liberal appropriations, or by the enactment of wise 
helping laws ? 

The magnitude of this evil is not appreciated. When it 
was proposed by Mr. Brace, the leading spirit in the Children's 
Aid Society v/ork, to start the Rivington-strect lodging-house 
for boys, many persons, even those who were engaged in the 
work, doubted the necessity of the step. The president of the 
Society thought there were not homeless boys enough to need 



CHILDREN WHO WORK. 4/5 

it ; but very soon it was full, and now applicants for lodging 
have to be sent away every day. 

I asked some bright little newsboys, lodgers at this house, 
how many such hotels they thought there ought to be for 
boys in New York. One thought that thirty would do, and 
another said it would need fifty. I asked another if he 
thought there were many boys now out of employment in 
New York. He said : 

'' The city 's full of them. Why, there 's men even offering 
to work for boys' wages." 

When this unequal struggle of childhood with hunger, 
cold, and all the nameless horrors of poverty has produced its 
natural effect, and the boy or girl has become hardened, the 
people, in self-protection, are obliged to support them in 
reformatories or prisons, while any plan by which all the poor 
children might be supported and schooled, and thus made 
useful citizens, would seem to the same people like useless 
extravagance. It is stated that it now costs the State of New 
York more than four times as much to support her criminal 
courts as to educate her children. Is this true ? And if it is 
true, what of it ? 

Horace Mann, the great apostle of the people, as President 
Sarmiento so justly designates him, saw the truths vvhich 
underlie this question more clearly and stated them more 
forcibly than any other person has ever done. Twenty-five 
years ago he told the people of this republic that — "No 
greater calamity can befall us as a nation than that our chil- 
dren should grow up without knowledge and cultivation. 
If we do not prepare them to become good citizens, develop 
their capacities, enrich their minds with knowledge, imbue 
their hearts with a love of truth and duty, and a reverence for 
all things holy, then our republic must go down to destruction 
as others have gone before it, and mankind must sweep through 
another vast cycle of sin and suffering before the dawn of a 
better era can arise upon the world." 



476 HOME TOPICS. 

''FESTINA LENTEr 

ONE of those fresh and sincere voices, which seem to me to 
be very truly characteristic of the New World, comes 
across the three thousand miles of sea rolling and leaping 
under these wild south winds. It reminds me of certain good 
intentions of mine, of pledges half given years ago, and never 
even half redeemed. It asks, not indeed for payment in full, 
but for some small installment, some acknowledgment of the 
debt, which will serve to prevent the statute of limitations from 
running. It tells me of a crowd of eager and bright young 
listeners, who think I may have some word to say to them 
which they want to hear — an eager, bright young crowd of 
American boys, from nine to eighteen years of age — and asks 
" if I can have the heart to refuse " to say it. 

Not I, indeed ! For I never had the heart to refuse any- 
thing to such applicants. But how to redeem my pledge — 
what word to say to such an audience — how to reach the 
hearts of '* the youth that own the coming years " in a land 
which is not my own, though I can scarcely look on it as a for- 
eign land — there lies the puzzle. 

The sight of an ordinary crowd, we are told, is — in Eng- 
land, at least — always a sad one, if you take note of the 
expression of the faces in repose ; though it may be inspiring 
enough when any strong wave of feeling is passing through 
or over them. I should say, from my own experience, that 
" pathetic " rather than '' melancholy " is the true word, even 
for a grown-up crowd, and it most certainly is with a crowd of 
boys. Who can help being roused and hfted out of the hum- 
drum jog-trot of the daily life of middle age when he gets in 
touch with them — lifted, though it may be only for a short 
hour or so, by the inspiring contact of overflowing health, and 
joy, and hope, into the breezy, buoyant atmosphere of early 

morning? 

"When all the worid is young, lads, 
And all the trees are green, 
With every goose a swan, lads, 
And every lass a queen, — 



*'FESTINA LENTE. 477 

Then heigh for boot and horse, lads, 

And round the world away ! 
Young blood must have its course, lads, 

And every dog his day." 

Yes, pathetic is the true word. For even while looking on 
the young faces, and feeling the pulse and inspiration of the 
dawn of life down to one's finger ends, thoughts of another 
kind will crowd up into the mind, — "thoughts that do often lie 
too deep for tears," — of beginnings cut short, of projects aban- 
doned, of designs marred, of expectations unfulfilled. 

But fair and softly ! How soon one's pen runs away 
with one ! These are not the words I meant to say, or the 
thoughts I meant to suggest to you, young readers. You will 
touch the pathetic side of life, all of you, soon enough. Why 
should I thrust it on you before the appointed hour ? 

Meantime I say, revel in the dawn. Rejoice in your young 
strength and life ; aim high, and build your castles like brave 
young architects, only taking care to dig the foundations deep, 
and to lay them with care and patience. Whether you will 
ever be able to build on them such brave and lofty towers and 
halls as you dream of now, matters comparatively little to 
you or your country. A thousand accidents and chances will 
determine in the coming years what the superstructure shall 
be, — accidents and chances we call them for want of a better 
name, — which you cannot control in the outset, but which will 
be controlled and settled for you. 

What materials you will have to work with, who can say ? 
To one clay, to another wood, to another marble, to another 
jewels and precious stones, will be served out in the great 
workshop of the world. You cannot make your choice ; it will 
be made for you. But this you can and may do, and should be 
doing now : You can so prepare the ground and the foundations 
that whatever material shall come to your hand hereafter shall 
surely be made the most of, and used in the best way ; so that 
whether you have to build marble palaces, or brick houses or 
log huts, the work shall be faithful and strong, and fit to stand 
the stress of the wildest weather, and the wear and tear of time. 



4/8 HOME TOPICS. 

What are these foundations but the principles and habits 
which underhe the character of the man, and which can only be 
laid to good purpose by the boy ? Truthfulness, self-control, 
simplicity, obedience, — these are the great corner-stones, to be 
welded and bound together by the cement of patience. " If I 
had only one word to speak to my boys," said one of the 
wisest and best educators of our time, " it should be Patience, 
Patience, Patience, over and over again." The world is getting 
into such a feverish hurry, and we are going so fast, that we 
are all in danger of missing the best things in life — the com- 
mon sights and sounds which lie by the way-side on every stage 
of the journey, and nowhere in greater profusion than on the 
first stage. This is our trouble, and likely to be more and 
more the trouble of our children. 

But, happily for us, our boys are the least affected by the 
disease of any section of society. The upper-school boy, unless 
he is a mere shiftless ne'er-do-well (a very small section of 
any community), is, as a rule, more than content with his daily 
life ; he is rejoicing and glorying in it. And his daily life 
repays him with interest. He stands there, at seventeen or 
eighteen, on the verge of manhood, — a boy still in heart, full 
of enthusiasms and aspirations, but with an intellect and body 
patiently and carefully trained, looking hopefully to the next 
step in life, but unwilling to hurry it, — the best poised and 
most equally developed human creature, take him all round, 
that our life can show. He has not sold his birthright, and 
the grand morning hours of life, when boyhood is maturing, 
have passed slowly over him, leaving behind them a bouquet 
and fragrance which will sweeten the coming years, and a 
reserve of strength for the labor and heat of the approaching 
midday. 

'* Ah, your boy keeps his birthright, and ours sells it for a 
very poor mess of pottage," writes one American friend to me ; 
while another says : '* You, in England, have a proverb, ' Boys 
will be boys ' ; ours should run just the other way, * Boys 
wont be boys.' I wish to heaven they would, and no one 
would grudge paying for broken glass and crockery." 



*' FESTINA LENTE." 479 

" Have you had any American boys under you ? " I asked 
of one of the ablest EngUsh masters, who has had a great 
experience at two of our best public schools. 

**Yes/' he said, "I have had several as pupils, and have 
known a good many more ; and nice, clever fellows, they were. 
Very like our own boys, too, but older of their age, as a rule." 

" Ah, you found it so ! " I said. *' I suppose they did n't 
care so much for games. Is that what you mean ? " 

*' Well, partly so ; but not exactly. They seemed rather to 
endure than to enjoy their lives, not only in the playing-fields, 
but in the schools. There were several promising cricketers, 
for instance, amongst them ; but they did n't work at it as 
most of our boys do, or get the same zest out of it. And it 
was much the same with their school- work. They did it 
because they were sent there to do it, and did n't care to be 
left behind. But they could n't throw themselves into the life 
with any enthusiasm, and so lost much of the pleasure, as well 
as the profit, of it." 

*' But might n't that come from early associations and 
training? Our boys have a world of their own which is 
sufficient for them. To be captain of the school, or of the 
eleven, or of bigside foot-ball, or of the boats, is to be famous in 
that little world which they have heard their big brothers talk 
of ever since they were breeched. But an American boy has 
not been reared in the traditions, and so can't care so much for 
our boy's world. He feels like an outsider at an English 
school." 

'' Possibly. At any rate, it 's a great loss, and would hinder 
me from sending over a boy of mine if I were an American." 

" What ! Not even to learn to write Greek and Latin 
verses ? I fancy that art is ignored on the other side, and you 
know you think in your secret soul that life must be a poor 
thing to a man who can't amuse himself in a leisure half-hour 
by turning the last popular song into iambics, or longs and 
shorts." 

''Well, so be it. Great, I own, are iambics, and great are 
longs and shorts ; but you may pay too much for them, and 



480 HOME TOPICS. 

the Yankee boy, I 'm afraid, buys our culture too dear. It 
does n't satisfy him. It is n't what he wants. Over here he 
is n't wiUing to remain a boy; very Hkely, as you say, because 
he feels like an outsider in our boy's world. Probably at 
hom.e he would find something answering to it, in which he 
could let himself out, and be satisfied, without wanting to dis- 
count life, and be a man before his time." 

How is it, my boys ? Are my correspondents and friends 
right ? Are you hurrying up your own lives, and therefore, so 
far as you can, spoiling the life of your country ? Well, if so, 
the only word I have to say to you (like my friend above 
referred to) is — patience, patience, patience! But I am a 
stranger, and know little of your needs or your hopes. Let me 
cite, then, one who has the best right to speak to you, and whose 
words ought to go straight to the heart of every American 
boy. Take down your Lowell, and look out a little poem (not 
one of his best in workmanship, but a gem in spirit and motive) 
called " Hebe." The gods' messenger descends to earth, bear- 
ing in her hands their choicest gift, the cup brimming with 
nectar — inspiration, and solace, and strength — for the lip of 
him whom the gods approve. The youth rushes to meet her 
— will snatch the cup from her hand. In his haste it is broken, 
and the precious contents spilled on the ground. 

^'O spendthrift haste! await the gods: 

Their nectar crowns the lips of Patience; 
Haste scatters on unthankful sods 

The immortal gift in vain libations. 
Coy Hebe flies from those that woo, 

And shuns the hand would seize upon her; 
Follow thy hfe, and she shall sue 

To pour for thee the cup of honor." 

Yes, follow your lives, and you will control them ; get 
ahead of them, and they will slip from under your hand. You 
are bred with a strong faith in your country and her destiny ; 
justify that faith, then, and remember that " he that believeth 
shall not make haste." 



HOW TO SAVE TIME. 48 1 

HOW TO SAVE TIME. 

WHEN people say that they are doing this or that ** to 
pass away the time," they forget that '' time is the stuff 
life is made of" 

Wasting time is the same thing as wasting life, and those 
who know how to economize time have learned the only pos- 
sible way of lengthening their lives. 

Almost every one has observed that some persons are able 
to accomplish a great deal, while others, who have as favorable 
opportunities, equal talent, and as good health as they, do very 
little. Now, one person has really no more time than another, 
only he chooses to use it differently. 

When you read the lives of famous persons, you will always find 
that they have been great workers. The celebrated Madame 
Roland was not only a politician and a scholar, but a house- 
keeper. In her ''Appeal to Posterity," she says: "Those who 
know how to employ themselves always find leisure moments, 
while those who do nothing are in want of time for everything." 

Mrs. Somerville, the famous astronomer, knew how to 
crowd a great deal into life. Young people are apt to suppose 
that one who was as learned as she was must have spent all her 
life in hard study, and have had a very stupid time. But Mrs. 
Somerville learned to use her moments so carefully that she 
had time for many things besides her mathematics. She went 
into very brilliant society, read and wrote much, and — let me 
whisper to the girls — found time to make her own dresses and 
attend to many domestic duties, which some people would 
consider unworthy the attention of a great and learned mind. 
What helped her most, in all these varied employments, was 
that she had the power of so concentrating her attention upon 
what she was doing, that nothing going on around her could 
distract her thoughts. 

It is true that all cannot do this, if they try ever so hard ; 
but many who have not formed the habit of concentrating 
attention cannot read to themselves or write an ordinary letter 
where others are talking. 
31 



482 HOME TOPICS. 

Another good way of saving time is to learn to move 
quickly, not forgetting, however, that there is a kind of 
''haste " which " makes waste." Try to acquire a dexterity in 
doing those common things which must be done very fre- 
quently. For instance, the operation of dressing has to be 
gone through by all many times in the course of the year, yet 
some people are always dressed at the appointed time, while 
others, who have been busy as long as they, are sure to be 
behindhand, because they have a habit of dawdling. 

Whatever you have to do, learn first to do it in the best 
way, and then to be as little while about it as is consistent with 
doing it properly. 

Those who take care of the moments find that the hours 
take care of themselves. 

Some people keep up a large correspondence by writing 
letters in their odd moments, while others are always burdened 
with unanswered letters, and when they do write, are sure to 
take time which makes it necessary for them to neglect some 
more important duty. 

Another good rule is not to try to do too many things at 
a time. There is a very pretty story by Jane Taylor, called 
" Busy Idleness," which illustrates this. It is an account of two 
sisters, one of whom worked hard for two weeks to accomplish 
nothing but a collection of beginnings, all of very useful things, 
but not one complete; while the other, without half the trouble, 
had really done a good deal by not attempting more than she 
was able to finish. 

We waste more time in waiting for ourselves than we do in 
waiting for others, and after we have done one thing, we are 
often so long in deciding what to take up next, that when we 
have decided, the time is gone which we ought to have given 
to it. But those who are always ready to pass quickly from 
one occupation to another will have accomplished all they had 
intended while we have been thinking what to be at. If you 
have some definite idea in the morning of what you mean to 
do during the day, whether in work or play, you will do more 
than you will if you simply pass from one thing to another 



HOW TO SAVE TIME. 483 

with no plan ; and you will be more likely to do things at the 
proper time. 

Another help to save time is the habit of keeping things 
where they belong, so that you will not waste precious moments 
in looking for them. Have at least two books always in read- 
ing — one which does not require very close attention, for leis- 
ure moments, when you do not feel like doing much, and one 
solid one, which requires more continuous thought. I suppose 
this was the plan of the old lady who always sent to the library 
for '' a sermon book, and another book." 

It is surprising how much can be acquired by giving a little 
time each day to systematic reading. The story is often told 
of the young man who read through Macaulay's History of 
England, and was surprised at ending so soon, by a habit of 
reading a few pages each day, while he was waiting for his din- 
ner. Of course, the same rule applies to other things, as well 
as to reading. 

Do not imagine, after all this, that simply because you are 
always doing something you are industrious. You may be 
worse than idle, if you are wasting not only time, but eye- 
sight and materials. Work must be to some purpose, to be 
worthy of the name. It may be better to be idle all day, 
than to be reading trash, or straining your eyes and nerves 
over some intricate and useless piece of needle-work, **red 
with the blood of murdered time." Many of these things 
are made only ''to give away," because people are too indo- 
lent to think of any gift more useful or appropriate. A sim- 
ple, inexpensive present, which shows that you have thought 
of what your friend would like best, is better than a very 
costly and elaborate one, which is only made from a wish to 
get rid of an obligation, and which misuses time in the making. 

Whatever you do, do it with all your might, whether it be 
croquet, or arithmetic, or base-ball, or worsted work. If a 
boy is thinking of his Latin lesson when he ought to be strik- 
ing a ball, he will probably be thinking of the game when he 
ought to be saying ^' Sum, es, est,'' and the result will be that 
he will have neither a good lesson nor a good score. 



484 HOME TOPICS. 

Now, perhaps, you will say that all this advice Is of no use 
to you, because you have all the time you want now; but you 
must not forget that there are a great many people in the 
world who find it hard work to crowd into a day all that it is 
necessary for them to do, and they would be very glad to have 
you give some of your leisure to them. Unemployed time 
is a sure indication of neglected duty. Even the ant, in the 
old nursery rhyme, says: 

" I always find something or other to do, 
If not for myself, for my neighbor." 

When you have not enough to occupy you, look among 
your circle of acquaintances, and see who of them needs to 
have you "lend a hand." 



PART VIII. THE HOME. 



OUTDOOR PARLORS. 

WHEN I see a house in process of building without a 
liberal allowance of piazzas, I resent it almost as a per- 
sonal injury, although there may be no reasonable probability 
that I shall ever sit under that man's vine or fig-tree. The 
vine, especially, would be altogether figurative without the 
material support of a veranda. As good a rule would be, in 
building first make your piazza, then attach a house to it. 

The in-door parlor is sure to be provided for with the 
usual amount of sofas and draperies ; but the outdoor is too 
often hke a rent — the accident of a day. '* Shall we run out 
a railing here and a few steps, and have a veranda?" asks 
Paterfamilias, in a dubious sort of a way, and his wife usually 
assents, fo*r she does not dislike the idea ; although she would 
sooner part with this appendage than give up the valuable 
inclosure at the back of the kitchen, which is so particularly 
handy as a sort of store-house and a place for the doing of 
odd jobs. 

The enthusiasm comes from the girls, who know the value 
of a front piazza with a thick green curtain of honeysuckle 



486 HOME TOPICS. 

and wistaria, making a shady retreat through the long June 
days and the torrid August noons, — fragrant, hke carefully 
kept linen, with delicious country smells, — clover and fresh 
hay, in place of lavender and rose-leaves, — strong distilled 
sweetness of woodbine, faint whiffs of clematis, and roses. 

And when the moonlight comes and traces a lattice-work 
of leaves on the piazza floor, and touches with lambent light 
each spray and corner, 

" Making earth's commonest things appear 
All romantic, poetic, and tender," 

the outdoor parlor is in its glory. It is the most delightful, 
dreamy lounging-place, where the odor of fragrant Havanas is 
apt to mingle with the honeysuckle, and the steps are fre- 
quently occupied by half-visitors who could scarcely nerve 
themselves up to the formula of a regular call. How charm- 
ing is its twilight darkness to a class of people who do most 
of their conversation in whispers, and who are seldom charac- 
terized as great talkers, — who look upon the brightness of the 
in-door parlor and its animated groups without any feelings of 
envy, assured that whatever good times there are in the world 
they are having them ! What would lovers do if there were 
no piazzas ? 

Some piazzas are simply an exasperation : so narrow that 
the steps rudely crowd the front door, instead of keeping their 
distance, as they should do, and only crossing the front of the 
house. This is a great mistake ; there should be at least two 
sides to a veranda, to allow of one corner, and three if possible ; 
while it should certainly measure four yards in width. We 
are speaking now of the piazza for a moderate house — mod- 
erate in every way. Hudson River castles, and siAiilar man- 
sions elsewhere, have their full complement of generous 
verandas ; it is the middle-class houses that suffer. 

We recall one of these mansions, with its magnificent 
piazza, on which many happy hours have been spent — the 
delicate trellis- work forming Moorish arches, each of which 
framed an exquisite picture in living green. When flooded 



OUTDOOR PARLORS. 487 

with moonlight, the place took on a tone of superhuman 
beauty. There were many accessories, too, on that piazza — 
things out of the common way, and selected with an artistic 
idea of coloring. Hanging-baskets were suspended from 
every point of the arches, and their tangled vines were masses 
of verdure and blossoms ; while rustic stands filled with plants 
stood, not in the way of promenaders, but well back against 
the house. Scarlet cushions on backs and seats made the 
bamboo chairs luxurious, and a pile of Moorish cushions in 
one corner arrested the eye and fascinated the sense. They 
must have been stuffed with poppies to account for their sleep- 
charming powers ; while the arabesque embroidery on a scar- 
let ground which adorned them, and the rug spread out below, 
were a most successful imitation of Moorish splendor. 

This curious couch, on which one half sat and half reclined, 
was quite in demand among the inmates and visitors on those 
intolerable nights, which are not at all like angels' visits, 
between the 20th of June and the 20th of August ; and the 
hostess would amiably wish that she had six Moorish beds 
instead of one. But a single duplicate of the novelty would 
have spoiled the effect, so far as appearances went. 

As a general thing, the furniture of our outdoor parlors 
does not receive sufficient consideration ; it is either not 
picturesque or it is uncomfortable. A rustic chair, uncush- 
ioned, is, to a certain extent, picturesque on a piazza, but it is 
not comfortable ; while a bamboo settee is neither one nor the 
other. Camp-chairs with gay-colored seats are very desirable, 
if the color and design are good ; and two or three cushions 
in a corner will make a very good substitute for the Moorish 
pile, A bright-colored afghan thrown over the pile, or on the 
end of the settee, adds much to the effect. In fact, anything 
that makes a good contrast with green is desirable on the 
piazza. Prettiest of all is it to see a child asleep on a gay- 
colored rug, watched by a Newfoundland dog. 



488 HOME TOPICS. 

THE PIAZZA. 

IN this country, with its perpetual contradiction of icy win- 
ters and brief, torrid summers, one can hardly live in the 
country without a piazza. In hot weather it supplies a shaded 
outdoor resting-place for the family ; after storms of wind and 
drifted snow, which render the roads impassable to delicate 
walkers, it furnishes a sheltered and easily swept promenade. 
It is, or should be, wide enough to accommodate a tea-party on 
occasion. It should be sheltered from the wind, and from the 
sun, so far as to provide a shady corner for all hours of the 
day. If possible, it should look out on something pleasant. 
Country views, with wide spaces and soft horizons, are not 
always possible ; but almost every country dweller can secure 
a tree, a few flowers, a reach of sky, perhaps even a glimpse of 
the sunset, while the less fortunate may at least drape morning- 
glories, sweet-brier, or flowering vines over the supports and 
walls. But whether the piazza look out upon Arcadia or the 
chicken-coop, its best charm and adornment must be the vines 
with which its pillars are clothed. Vines thus planted play an 
important part. They adorn the house by which they grow, 
frame it in, and with leafy arches make it more beautiful for 
those without and those within. 



THE SACRIFICIAL PARLOR. 

WE call it thus, wittingly, because it is the high altar upon 
which we ofler to the gods of custom and tradition all 
that is best and choicest of our earthly possessions — includ- 
ing comfort and convenience. We generally choose for it the 
largest, highest, airiest, sunniest room our abode contains. We 
buy for it the best carpet we can afford, the handsomest 
furniture, tlie nicest draperies. We hang in it our few really 



THE SACRIFICIAL PARLOR. 489 

good pictures; lock up in a glass-fronted case our most ele- 
gantly bound books ; arrange our pet bits of bric-a-brac in a 
carefully careless manner; leave a stiff bouquet, now and again, 
in a vase on the center-table. And then, do we go there and 
enjoy it, after the day's occupations are complete, and the 
scattered family can meet on common ground ? 

Not a bit of it. We pull down the shades, or drop the 
heavy curtains till there is just light enough to stumble over 
the furniture in, and then depart, leaving the door ajar with 
what we try to believe is an attractively easy air. Now, of 
what possible use is the apartment to us ? We have done the 
best we can to make it pretty and pleasant. We have used 
our taste and judgment, and very probably more money than 
we ought to have spared from the rest of the house, to render 
this room the most beauteous under the roof Yet, when it is 
at last finished to our mind, we avoid it, like a pitfall. It is n't 
because we have done the thing entirely for show. We invade 
its sacred precincts to receive calls (then we pull up one shade 
after the caller comes and lower it the moment he or she is 
gone) ; we entertain formal visitors there, — not to mention 
evening companies. But whatever the occasion, we and it par- 
take of the stiffness of unfamiliarity. Our foot is not on our 
native heath, though we may have been for years owner of the 
brilliant (carpet) flowers we tread upon. We are not at home 
in our own house, and we are heartily glad to escape from the 
walls of our own parlor. 

We go there on Sundays and holidays, sitting in unwelcome 
state on springs that have never grown easy with use ; but we 
are always privately cheered when bed-time relieves us of the 
necessity of patronizing our own best furniture. We occupy 
our parlor from a sense of duty to society, and not because we 
really like or enjoy it. And when we do go there, we are 
rarely all together. "The boys" wont visit it, if they can help 
it. They always stick to the pleasantest, cheerfulest, coziest 
place in the house. The place where the family live is the 
place for them. It may be the library, the dining-room, or 
" mother's room" ; but, wherever it is, there will " the boys'* 



490 HOME TOPICS. 

stay ; and it may generally be believed that where '^ the boys" 
— unless they are boors — wont go, must be a very uncom- 
fortable place. " The girls," being more conventional by 
birth and training, accept the parlor and its depressing atmos- 
phere as matters of social necessity ; besides, if there be any 
compensation in it, it is much more vital to them than to 
** the boys." 

Of course, there must be something wrong about all this, 
and the causes would seem to be these : Custom and tradition 
have imposed upon us the notion, first, that the best of all we 
have should be reserved for *' company" — to be enjoyed by 
ourselves only incidentally through them ; second, that we 
should have at least one apartment in our houses too good for 
daily occupancy. 

From the days when the *' best room" — that apotheosis 
of all refined discomfort — used to be hermetically sealed to 
common wants, to the present, when we are less rigid in 
arrangement but none the less scrupulous in treatment, the 
parlor, in the majority of American homes, has ever been the 
corner where nobody has wanted to stay. It contains the 
choicest that our house affords — except the living home pres- 
ence which pervades every other square inch, but refuses to 
enter here. We have literally made it too good for ourselves; 
therefore, too good for our friends ; for what is too good for 
ourselves ought, of necessity, to be too good for our asso- 
ciates. We feel that we cannot afford to subject our fine 
furniture to every-day wear and tear. We know that it would 
be difficult to replace the rich carpet for years. We express 
contempt for Mrs. Jones, who frankly declares she cannot 
afford to let the light fade her Axminster or Moquette ; and 
laugh at Mrs. Brown, who keeps her chairs and lounges dressed 
in linen dusters, as if they were always about to start on some 
penitential pilgrimage. But we are, nevertheless, very careful 
that our parlor hangings are shielded from that most guiltless 
of enemies, the sun. We take no satisfaction in our parlor 
because we have adapted it only to our occasional, not to our 
constant, demands. 



RED. 491 

The parlor should be the rallying point in daily family life. 
It should be the room from which we separate to our regular 
occupations in the morning, and in which we gather again in 
the evening w^ith our favorite books, our bits of fancy work, 
our fireside games. It should be furnished in the finest, the 
most elegant w^ay that is within — truly within — our means, 
because here, and here alone, probably, can we enjoy with 
those nearest and dearest the aesthetic part of domestic 
routine. It may be given over, in a measure, to ornament, 
because it is not, like the nursery, a romping ground for the 
children ; or, like the kitchen, the sewing-room, the school- 
room, or the office, the place for toil. But above and beyond 
all, it should be the room in which centers the soul and throbs 
the heart of home life. 



RED. 

PUT a touch of red here and there in the favorite family 
room, whether it be library, sitting-room, or parlor. The 
delicate blues and pinks, mixed with white musHn, are very 
pretty and suitable for chambers, where we want the rooms to 
look pure and cool and lovely; but if we want our intimate 
friends w^ho are admitted into our family rooms to exclaim, on 
opening the door, *' What a bright, cheerful room, and how 
cozy and comfortable you look!" then add the touch of red. 
Two or three shades of light gray ; a wall-paper with grace- 
ful sprays supporting little red-breasted birds, or composed of 
autumn leaves, lights up well. Add a few red-bound books to 
those on the shelves, red or red-and- white lambrequins, a red 
table-cover, or gray with red applique, a red-and-gray cover 
to the lounge, and a bright carpet. Put autumn leaves among 
the grasses in the pretty vases on the mantel. Then, with 
pictures on the walls, no matter of what kind so that they are 
good, and a few flowers in the windows, the furniture can be 



492 HOME TOPICS. 

of the plainest ; but such a room will be the delight of the 
family, and the coloring, not being sufficient to be glaring and 
offend the eye, will add twofold to the cheerfulness of the 
bright fire — with the brass andirons, of course. 



ABOUT FLOORS AND RUGS. 

MODERN fashion is responsible for so many absurdities 
that it is only fair to expect from it some really sensible 
innovations. To offset the ridiculous eruptions of meaningless 
and ugly bric-a-brac, the collections of china dogs and climbing 
monkeys, the fire-places with their mock logs and senseless gas 
flames, we have at least one sensible, wholesome fashion. In 
place of the old-fashioned carpet, serving as a reservoir of dust 
in the rooms of a careless housekeeper, and as a continual thorn 
in the fiesh to the careful one, we may now have polished floors 
and movable rugs, and yet be in the fashion. 

The outcry which the devotees of hygiene make against 
carpets, as affording such admirable hiding-places for dust and 
the germs of disease, cannot be urged with equal force against 
rugs. In the first place, the corners of the room are always 
open to sun and air, to water and soap, and these, all house- 
keepers know, are the places where dust accumulates ; in the 
second, with very little trouble a rug may be taken up, beaten, 
and sunned ; and whenever the floor is washed, dusted, or 
waxed, it should be lifted along the edges, and the dust care- 
fully removed. Where rugs are filled in about the edges with 
carpeting, they must meet the hygienists in the same rank with 
carpets, as they have no advantage over them in that case. 

I have nothing to say to the people who can afford to have 
inlaid or even simple natural wood floors ; but there is many a 
careful housewife who is living in a rented house, or who can- 
not afford either to have her floors relaid or covered with wood 



ABOUT FLOORS AND RUGS. 493 

carpeting, and yet who would be glad to replace her worn-out 
carpets with rugs. The floors in well-finished Northern houses, 
having all the modern improvements and conveniences about 
them, are an astonishment to Southern people, who are used to 
seeing, in every decent house, good, well-finished floors, with 
smoothly planed, narrow, clear-grained, close-fitting planks. 
What to do with the knotty, rough, irregular planks, covered 
with spots and splashes of paint left by the careless workmen, 
is a puzzling question to the housekeeper. The painter who is 
called in to remedy the evil has usually but one suggestion to 
make — the universal panacea — which is " Paint it," and he 
goes on to expatiate upon the "elegant floors he has painted 
for so and so." Do not be beguiled into painting your floor. 
Every footstep will leave a dusty impression, many repeated 
footsteps will leave it scratched and ugly beyond redemption 
by anything less than radical measures — which will bring you 
back to the naked planks. 

First, if your floor has been already painted, or is covered 
with drippings from the paint-brush, cover the spots and 
splashes with caustic potash ; leave this on till the paint is dis- 
solved. It will take, perhaps, thirty-six hours to do this if the 
paint is old and hard ; then have the floor well scoured, taking 
care not to let the mixture deface your wash-boards. 

Secondly, if your flooring is marred by wide, ugly cracks 
between the planks, have them puttied, as they serve otherwise 
as a multitude of small dust-bins, and show an ugly stripe 
between your shining boards. 

If the planks are narrow and of equal width, you can have 
them stained alternately light and dark — oak and walnut. 
In that case, stain the whole floor oak, and then do the alter- 
nate stripes dark. The staining mixture can be bought at any 
paint-shop, or can be ordered from any city, and brought by 
express in sealed cans. In almost every case it is safe to dilute 
the staining mixture with an equal quantity of turpentine. I 
have never seen or used any which was not far too thick as it 
is bought. It helps very much, when staining in stripes, to lay 
two boards carefully on each side of the stripe to be stained, 



494 HOME TOPICS. 

and then draw the brush between. This guards the plank 
from an accidental false stroke of your brush, and saves time 
to the aching back. If, however, the dark staining should 
chance to run over on the light plank, before it dries wipe it off 
with a bit of flannel dipped in turpentine. 

When the floor is to be all walnut, the best staining I have 
ever seen is done without the use of a brush. Buy at a 
grocer's — for a single medium-sized room — a one-pound can 
of burnt umber, ground in oil. Mix with boiled linseed oil a 
sufficient amount of this to color properly without perceptibly 
thickening the oil; by trying the mixture upon a bit of wood 
till the desired color is attained, the quantity can easily be 
determined. It should be a rich walnut brown. Rub this 
into the wood thoroughly with a woolen cloth, rubbing it off 
with another woolen cloth till the stain ceases to ''come off." 
Never be beguiled into using boiled oil to keep the floor in 
order, for it is more like a varnish than an oil, and after the 
pores of the wood have once become filled, it lies on the sur- 
face, attracting and holding dust till it ruins the wood, and can 
only be removed by the use of caustic potash, sand-paper, or 
the plane. But this first, or any subsequent coloring of the 
floor must be done as here directed. 

If you find, when the coloring matter dries, that it is not 
dark enough, rub on another coat. Do not be discouraged 
that your floors look dull and poor, for they only need a few 
weeks of proper care to be what you want. 

When the staining is done, prepare for the next day's 
waxing. Mix turpentine and yellow bees-wax in the propor- 
tion of one gallon of turpentine to one pound of wax, shaved 
thin. Let the wax soak all night, or longer, in the turpentine 
before using; then rub it on with a woolen cloth. A few 
times of using this will make the floor gain a polish like that 
of an old-fashioned table-top. At first it must be done fre- 
quently, but beyond the smell of the turpentine, which soon 
passes off, and the trouble of applying, it has no disadvantage. 
When the wood finally becomes well polished, the wax need 
not be applied oftcner than once a week or even once a fort- 



ABOUT FLOORS AND RUGS. 495 

night. The floor, in the meantime, can be dusted off by pass- 
ing over it an old broom or hair floor-brush, with a piece of 
sUghtly moistened rag tied around it. Everything that falls 
upon it lies upon its surface, as on that of varnished furniture. 
Nothing ever really soils it. It can, of course, be washed up, 
but never needs scrubbing. 

Now for the rugs. A room, unless it is very full of furni- 
ture, never looks well with bits and scraps of rugs about it. 
The main open space should be covered by a large rug, if 
possible. The rug need not be so expensive as a carpet, for 
it can be made of American Smyrna, velvet, Brussels, or even 
ingrain carpeting, edged with a border to match. It should 
cover the open space in the middle of the room, and be held 
down, if possible, here and there, by the heaviest pieces of 
furniture. If made of carpeting, it is better to have it made 
by the firm of whom it is bought, as home-made rugs usually 
bear the impress of domestic manufacture. They need, after 
being sewed, to be shrunk and pressed, so as to lie flat and 
smooth and perfectly square. 

Of the domestic and imported rugs there is a great variety, 
with a corresponding range of prices. The Pennsylvania rugs 
— imitation Smyrna — are exceedingly pretty, and are gotten 
up in pleasing colors — olives and crimsons and blues; but the 
occidental appreciation of color is crude and vulgar compared 
to the oriental ; and the domestic rugs, even the prettiest, 
smack of the designer and the loom, while the oriental ones 
often show an audacity of color and design in detail which 
produces a charmingly harmonious result. 

The Indian designs are dark and rich and somber, but very 
beautiful, while the Turkish are bright and vivid, and are far 
handsomer when toned down by wear than at first. The 
Persian are scarcely to be distinguished from the Turkish by 
the uninitiated. The Smyrna or Oushak rugs usually have 
a vivid cardinal center, bjroken by set figures and surrounded 
by a border of deep, rich, harmonious tints, or else they are 
of the old-fashioned colors, brick-dust red with indigo-blue, a 
somberer combination, but one of which the eye never tires. 



49^ HOME TOPICS. 

Rugs, like wine, grow more valuable as they grow older. 
Not with our usage, scampered over by children with muddy 
boots, or trodden by the heeled shoes of adults, but with the 
Eastern usage, they are worn from their original woolliness of 
surface to an exquisite sheen, almost like that of silk plush, 
and are sold, half-worn, for prices above what the new ones 
bring. 



BEST PARLORS. 

PEOPLE just returned from Europe are apt to say (and to 
be laughed at for saying), " You can't think how it strikes 
us that there is no * society ' here at home. There are balls 
enough, and dinners ; we drink tea with our relations, and in 
the country partake of fifteen kinds of cake at the sewing- 
circle. But of * society,' as the word is understood abroad, 
there is none, — no habit of reunion — no necessity for social 
life. People enough there are, and nice people, too, but they 
are all so dreadfully busy. They accept an occasional party as 
dire necessity, and repay the obligation at stated intervals, as 
they settle their butcher's bill. But they do not even pretend 
to find pleasure in it. Each family is intrenched within itself, 
and sits habitually with draw-bridge up, and doors barred to 
the outer world. And yet 't is pity, with such good material 
for better things. There are * bricks ' enough and to spare in 
our highly favored land, but mortar is wanting to make them 
adhere together." 

Such is the wail which breaks from many a returned 
traveler. And though we may scold and resent, it were vain 
to deny some reason at the bottom of these jeremiads. Some- 
thing is lacking — which those of us unacquainted with Paris 
salons miss. Our homes are the narrower that they do not 
more easily open to receive outsiders, not every day nor all 
days, perhaps, — due space must be left for family privacies, — 
but frequentl}', liberally, and without effort. 



BEST PARLORS. 49/ 

No formal entertainment and invitation should be needful. 
Let it once be understood that a pleasant family are regularly 
at home on certain evenings of the week and happy to see 
their friends, and the rest follows as a matter of course. Peo- 
ple come for the pleasure of coming — come to meet other 
people — come to enjoy the atmosphere which any home 
worthy the name diffuses over a far wider circle than that 
which daily gathers about its hearth-stone. And there is real 
education and growth, especially for the young, in society like 
this ; none whatever in a yearly ball, heralded by printed cards 
and Delmonico's menu, and wound up by a flourish of trum- 
pets in the ** Social Slop-Jar." 

These evening reunions were the animus of the Paris 
salon in the days of its glory. Society was compacted and 
welded into form by constant attrition. " How can I fail to 
know him well," said the old Marquise, *' when for twenty- 
six years I have passed five evenings a week in his 
society?" 

But how if the mistress of the salon had spent her time 
habitually in the basement dining-room, and only when the 
bell rang to answer visitors, had hurried upstairs to change 
her cap and send a maid to light the gas ? Would these pleas- 
ant little circles have been so apt to convene ? And precisely 
here it is that the "best parlor" question comes in. 

Almost every American house possesses one of these 
dreadful altars, erected to what unknown goddess it is impos- 
sible to guess. It is a Bogy, before whom from time to time 
people burn gas in chandeliers of fearful design — to whom 
are dedicated flagrant carpets, impossible oil paintings, furni- 
ture too gorgeous for common day and shrouded therefrom by- 
customary Holland. Musty smells belong to this deity, stiff- 
ness, angles, absence of sunlight. The visitor, entering, sees 
written above the portal: ''Who enters here abandons — con- 
versation." What is there to talk about in a room dark as the 
Domxdaniel, except where one crack in a reluctant shutter 
reveals a stand of wax-flowers under glass, and a dimly de- 
scried hostess, who evidently waits only your departure to 
32 



498 HOME TOPICS. 

extinguish that solitary ray ? The voice instinctively hushes ; 
the mind finds itself barren of ideas. A few dreary common- 
places are exchanged, then a rise, a rustle, the door is gained 
and the light of the blessed sun ; you glance up in passing — 
flap goes the blind, inner darkness is again resumed. Bogy has 
it all his own way, and you thank your stars that you have 
done your duty by the Browns for at least a twelvemonth ! 

And yet, upon this dismal apartment, which she hates and 
all her acquaintances hate, poor Mrs. Brown has lavished time 
and money enough to make two rooms charming. For ugly 
things cost as much as pretty ones — often more. And costly 
ugliness is, as Mrs. Brown would tell you, a '* great responsi- 
bility to take care of" What with the carpet which must n't 
get faded, the mirrors which must n't get fly-specked, the 
gilding which must n't be tarnished, there is nothing for it but 
to shut the room up to darkness and all dull influences. And 
as families are like flies and will follow the sun, the domestic 
life comes to be led anywhere rather than in the best parlor, 
and the *' taboo " which Mrs. Brown proclaims is easily 
enforced. 

And yet this very Mrs. Brown is quick to recognize the 
difference when, in other people's homes, she is shown a cozy 
and pleasant room. She sits on a chintz sofa in her velvet and 
ermine, and glances half enviously at the tinted walls hung 
with photographs, at the sparkling little fire in the grate, the 
windows gay with sun and green things, the book-cases and 
tables loaded with volumes. *' How I admire an open fire ! " 
she says. " But does n't it make a great deal of dust ? And 
your plants, too — I can't think how you make them grow so 
well in 2. parlor y 

*' A little Croton and plenty of sun is all the secret," she 
is told. 

'* Oh, but how dreadfully faded your carpet must get!" she 
goes on. ** Such quantities of books, too. Well, I should like 
to have such things." 

It does not occur to the good lady that, for the price of one 
of those useless mirrors which cost her such anxiety and rub- 



BEST PARLORS. 499 

bing with chamois-skin, a choice company of poets, philoso- 
phers, and sages could be won to sit forever at her side, 
informing her with their wisdom. Or that for a tithe of the 
same her fireless grate would sparkle with cannel coal for a 
winter long. Her furniture, her carpets, the dullness of her 
home, are incumbrances truly, but incumbrances which she 
bears willingly and would not be without. 

And people having the right to live pretty much as they 
please, so long as they violate no law of the land, it would 
matter little, except that there are so many Browns and so 
many best parlors that society is seriously affected thereby. 
For a system which necessitates great and troublesome changes 
in family arrangement whenever a guest comes, tends to nar- 
rowness and inhospitality. If the covers must be taken off the 
furniture, the plated spoons go upstairs and the silver ones 
come down, the best china be lifted from a top shelf, upon the 
arrival of each friend, be sure that friend will seldom arrive. 
Only when what Mrs. Stowe calls "a. good liberal average" is 
established as a rule over all houses, will hearty interchange of 
social courtesies begin, and the communion of friends, face to 
face, be regarded as a pleasure rather than a toil. 

To those of us who have been tasting the summer in the 
sweet breadth and freedom of the country, our homes will 
seem dull and straitened enough as we reenter them. Now is 
the time, before the old habitual scales blind our eyes, to look 
about with anointed vision, and see how these homes can 
be brightened and broadened — made more like that lovely 
outdoor home to which Nature welcomes each new-comer. 
Above all, let us cast out the " Best Parlor." To the sacred 
inclosure once called by that name let us bring our daintier 
tasks of letter-writing, needle-work, study. Let the walls be 
beautified with every simple ornament within our reach — the 
windows opened to receive the sun, and vines and roses set to 
catch his shining. And over the door once sacred to '' Bogy" 
let us write " Welcome." And so the last shadow of the Bogy 
will depart, and our homes be very homes indeed, 
"From turret to foundation-stone." 



500 HOME TOPICS. 

TOO MUCH DECORATION. 

LADIES who live in the country are particularly liable to 
" overdo " their decoration. They get many a hint of 
beautiful objects that can be made with little trouble, from 
magazines and papers, and they must needs try their skill 
in constructing the pretty knickknacks. Sometimes a beau- 
tiful ornament is thus made ; but many times the lack of 
the needful materials, so easily procured in the city, but so 
difficult to find in the country, will cause a poor imitation 
of what was designed to be a '' thing of beauty." We might 
cite many examples of this enthusiastic pursuit of various 
kinds of fancy-work — worsted- work, for instance. We shudder 
to think of the time spent, — wasted, — the eyes ruined, over 
ugly pieces of embroidery — ottomans, pillows, slippers, etc. 
Just now the mania is for painting upon pottery. With able 
instruction this enthusiasm might be turned into good chan- 
nels. But what shall be said of that invention of some 
mediocre mind — the pasting upon ginger-jars of cheap and 
tawdry pictures ? When we see our shelves and tables cov- 
ered with these vases, match-safes, cigar-holders, etc., and 
know that, from regard to the feelings of the young artists, 
these must be placed in a conspicuous position and favorable 
light, we are in danger of wishing that all pottery could be 
buried so deep in the ground that even the indefatigable 
Schliemann could not unearth it. A parlor ought not to be 
littered with such trifles. Better a few good and not costly 
pictures, such as engravings, or Braun's autotypes of cele- 
brated paintings, in inexpensive frames ; ornaments sparing!}' 
used, but beautiful in themselves and from association ; a ver}' 
few thrifty plants, not too delicate, but those that will give 
plenty of flowers and will not require all the sunshine; best of 
all, good books in plain cases. Leave space for the new 
volume and the magazine upon the table, and for the bright 
evening lamp ; space upon the floor for the children's toys, 
and for themselves to frolic ; and let not even the honest dog 
or the gentle cat be banished lest they break or mar some frail 



BREAKFAST, SOCIALLY CONSIDERED. 50I 

piece of fancy-work. So shall we be kept from the worry and 
care of too many treasures, and find time for reading, for 
study, for play with the little ones, and perhaps for practicing 
at times the almost lost art of plain sewing. 



BREAKFAST, SOCIALLY CONSIDERED. 

BREAKFAST, according to the usual American idea, is a 
hurried half-way place of entertainment between bed and 
business ; a mere halt for supplies before taking the road ; a 
glimpse at the new day through the medium of a grumpish 
dressing-gown, buckwheat cakes, and a damp newspaper ; a 
whispered colloquy with the cook going on at one end of the 
table, and the children scuffling off to school from the other. 
It was our neighbors in Boston, we believe, who first gave us 
the hint of its aesthetic and hospitable capabilities. The late 
dinners of city life long ago thrust from us the possibility of 
keeping up the old-fashioned pleasant meal of " tea," about 
which the whole family, and its one or two favorite guests, 
were wont to gather. It was a lucky thought in somebody to 
transfer its charm and uses back to breakfast, the early morn- 
ing hours being, for most business men, the real leisure of 
the day. 

Dinner is always more or less a matter of state and prepara- 
tion, to which we carry all the burden of anxiety rolled up since 
morning ; our very jokes are feverish and eager ; but at break- 
fast we stand at ease in mind and body. The house is clean 
and freshly dressed. Joe and Bob have not yet begun to 
squabble ; the coffee sends a hungry whiff through the bright, 
frosty air ; the fresh dew, in a word, sparkles for us, not only 
on the glass of red roses on the table, but on all the world out- 
side ; what better time is there to call our friend into the house 
that we may together "give the sun good-morrow"? Invita- 
tions to breakfast are almost as common as to dinner latterly 



502 HOME TOPICS. 

in the cities ; but there is a difference between them, as every- 
body knows. You do not ask a man to breakfast with whom 
you have to wear any sort of defensive armor ; he is coming 
into your friendship by a short cut. There is no such intimate 
hobnobbing as that over a cup of coffee and a first cigar. He 
sees your wife in her pretty musHn wrapper, and the baby is 
brought in to be kissed, fresh from its bath. There will always 
hereafter be a subtile home flavor in his remembrance of 
you. You can never again be to him nothing but a bull or a 
bear. There are nice distinctions in the hospitalities of city 
hfe which have not penetrated to provincial society. In town, 
where money can command any luxury for the table at a 
moment's notice, and where Johns and Johnson have the same 
amount of money, these worthies, when they would regale each 
other, must have recourse to some other attraction than victuals 
and cookery. Art, music, culture of every kind, are taxed to 
their utmost limits to offer an entertainment of thought, of 
brain as well as body, in the universal, rapid, touch-and-go 
habit of town hospitality. Unfortunately, out of the cities, we 
Americans are too apt to cherish the old English creed, that 
hospitality is purely an affair of the stomach. In farm neigh- 
borhoods and villages, the man of note must be a good '* pro- 
vider," and his wife a notable housekeeper, with cellars packed 
with potatoes and bacon, and pantries stored with jellies and 
pickles, to support their social claims. Who has ever assisted 
at the preparation of a New England Thanksgiving, a tea-party 
in Pennsylvania, or a dinner at the West, and does not remem- 
ber the weariness of brain and agonies of muscle, out of which 
the baked meats, the cakes, the ice-creams, many colored, were 
evolved ? If, unluckily, the would-be host or hostess has lately 
"gone East," and dined with Johns or Johnson, they are sure 
to attempt an imitation of what impressed them as "city style," 
and end in a vulgarized reproduction of that vulgar thing — out- 
side show. We have known delicate, fair young brides devote 
their last weeks of maidenhood to baking enormous masses of 
cake, and covering them with icing, in order to have a "more 
fashionable spread" than their neighbors. 



HOME DECORATIONS — SCREENS AND PORTIERES. 503 

And we remember one gently bred and cultured woman 
who spent two days in a hot cellar trying to reproduce some 
spun-sugar abomination in imitation of the masterpiece of a 
city confectioner, while flowers of priceless beauty were bloom- 
ing all around her, ready to decorate her table ; and after that, 
to drill the man-of-all-work into some similitude of a trained 
footman ! What can be done to open the eyes of such a woman ? 
Ordinary sense and tact ought to teach her that cookery and 
serving, like a woman's dress, are only perfect when there is 
nothing about them to be remembered. It needs, perhaps, 
wider intercourse with the world to show her that true hospi- 
tality includes the giving to our friend a glimpse of our home 
life, of our real selves — some drops of whatever best cordial 
knowledge, or art, or life has brought to us, as well as the 
choicest dish out of our kitchen. 



HOME DECORATIONS— SCREENS AND 
PORTIERES. 

LOOK for a moment at the dull drawing-room of that 
period before the decorative leaven began its work within 
our homes, when chairs and sofas were ranged with mathe- 
matical precision against long, unornamented walls ; when the 
piano was set between the two chimney-pieces, where fire 
never was ; when the center-table stood beneath the chande- 
lier ; the windows were darkened by lace and brocatelle, the 
shades drawn down, the register turned on, and, as was most 
natural, the **best room" abandoned to its melancholy state! 
It often happens that the home into which a young couple 
turn their steps is one of the old-fashioned, discouraging kind, 
with that supreme stumbling-block to decorators — the long, 
narrow parlor — staring them in the face at the outset. We 
will suppose that the walls have been rehung with one of the 



504 HOME TOPICS. 

papers so common now, that are furniture in themselves as well 
as pictures and sunshine, and that one of the obnoxious twin 
chimney-pieces has been removed, and a book-case or cabinet 
set in its place, the other widened out for a low basket-grate, 
and framed in porcelain tiles. '' It will be always long and 
narrow, like Barbara Allen's coffin ! " says the mistress of such 
a room, in vexation. Let us quote for her benefit the bright 
saying of that essentially womanly woman, Delphine de Girar- 
din, masquerading in her letters under the title of the Vis- 
comte de Launay. ''Set your wits to work," she counsels; 
" scatter your furniture, make little corners everywhere, 
and invest them with a sort of mysterious intimacy. Strew 
your lounges with pillows, your tables with books and flowers 
and work. Let each nook betray some trait or fancy of its 
mistress ; and be sure that you can accomplish nothing of all 
this without the aid of screens. Above everything, screens." 

She might have added, being a genuine Parisienne^ 
"Where screens fail, try portieres'' The long room, divided 
beneath its customary stucco arch with a richly colored 
drapery, flowing full and free with the unbroken sweep of the 
stuff, becomes at once invested with a picturesque grace it 
could never otherwise acquire. This curtain should always be 
partly drawn, and the brass rod from which it depends set low 
enough to allow a glimpse, into the space beyond, of ceiling 
and frieze, — ^over door-shelf glittering with blue china, — 
Christmas holly, perchance, stuck in the frame of a convex 
mirror, — plaques and picture-rods. A portiere of Venetian 
yellow stuff, with an embossed pattern of conventionalized birds 
and branches upon it, hung thus in a dark room, is like sun- 
shine in the rift of a shady wood. The tawny shades in 
drapery, the ambers, the old gold, the deep umber browns, the 
sunflower yellow, and the warm, golden chestnut, are almost 
sure to chime in delightfully, hang them where you will. Next 
come the royal crimsons and maroons. In plush-hangings, 
these colors succeed remarkably well, and should be crossed 
with bands, or edged with borders in outline embroidery, in 
contrasting hues. Sage-greens, lizard-greens, and bronze- 



HOME DECORATIONS — SCREENS AND PORTIERES. 505 

greens are always satisfactory. In blue, the dull tints of the 
oriental fabrics wear better in a room than any more bright 
and positive. If these hangings, to be had now at various 
prices, are beyond the purse of the housewife, there are still 
numberless stuffs with which clever fingers can deal skillfully 
and produce artistic effects, at a merely nominal cost. Linen, 
momie-cloth, canton-flannels dyed in lovely shades, cheese- 
cloth, ordinary coarse flannel in soft hues, can be bought very 
cheap and made up with home embroidery in bands. It is, in 
fact, quite an additional pleasure to make and hang these cur- 
tains for oneself, and to snap one's fingers at the shopmen, 
who walk serene amid encompassing draperies, like the people 
in ''Arabian Nights," and smile compassionately at the re- 
quest to purchase anything at a price smaller than a king's 
ransom. 

Mme. de Girardin's indispensable, the parave^tt, or screen^ 
is now a familiar inmate in our homes. One runs upon Japan- 
ese screens in hall-ways, where they shut off the servants' 
stair-way to regions below and light up dark corners with a 
superb collocation of colors, as striking as the bold assembling 
of native figures and birds and flowers in the design. Again, 
in the dining-room, the butler's pantry, with its mysterious, 
vista of meals before and after service, is safely excluded from 
our view. The revelers in " Noctes Ambrosianae " found a 
reporter in their camp hidden behind such an ambush ; and 
others than mischievous Lady Teazle have taken refuge there, 
in hasty escape from some intrusive guest. The small fire- 
screen, swung like a movable banner from the chimney, or set 
in a frame to move from place to place, invites decorative 
treatment. A bunch of peacock feathers, embroidered upon 
old-gold silk and set in an ebonized frame, had great success at 
a recent exhibition. Screens worked in crewels upon satin or 
English serge, in panels, may employ any design that is not 
too strictly copied from Nature. By all means avoid reproduc- 
ing Nature in crewel-work, if you wish to silence the howl of 
the critics on such points. Conventionalize her, and you may 
receive the blessing of a Decorative Art Society. 



506 HOME TOPICS. 

The drawing-room threefold screen, set at the back of a 
couch or near a draughty door- way, is often worked on panels 
of satin and set in a frame-work of deep maroon plush. 
Again, these panels are painted with water-colors in beautiful, 
but perishable-looking, flower groups. Hand-screens, and 
lamp-screens like tiny banners, are also used. 

All of these hints are offered for the consideration of the 
young people about to marry, and, in due time, to enter upon 
house-furnishing — of whom, as of most other good commodi- 
ties, there is always a fresh supply coming on the market. If 
we have unconsciously alarmed the mnottr-propre of the head 
of the house by suggesting that he is, for a brief time, carried 
away and submerged by billows of Venetian gold tapestry and 
mediaeval momie-cloth, we can as safely predict that his reward 
will come in the abounding joy with which he takes possession 
of the new home. 



THE BOYS' ROOM. 

TOO little attention is paid by young people, when buying 
or building a house, to the future requirements of the 
babies still in their cribs. The time passes more quickly than 
they thought. Bob and Joe and Tom are soon big, burly lads, 
apt to shoulder and kick each other if brought into too close 
contact; and Nelly and Bess, young ladies, each with her array 
of bosom friends, books, love-letters, and crimping-irons ; and 
for them all there are but the two small chambers, one of which 
has often to be vacated when a guest arrives. The boys, in 
most cases, fare worse than any other members of the family. 
Their sisters' chamber is dainty and prettily furnished, while 
they are huddled into the garret or whatever other uncomforta- 
ble cubby-hole offers itself in which they can *' rough it " ; in 
the case of farmers' sons, this apartment often is the loft of the 
carriage-house. Now, if a boy's tendency is stronger than a 
girl's to be disorderly, untidy in his habits, and lacking in per- 



THE BOYS' ROOM, 50/ 

sonal reserve or a love for the beautiful, it Is the more neces- 
sary that he should be taught these things from his earliest 
childhood. Much of the want of refinement, the nervous 
debility, and other evils of both body and mind which inhere 
to Americans, are caused by the habit of crowding boys 
together into ill-ventilated, ugly, meagerly furnished chambers. 
No weak, nervous child can sleep with one of stronger phy- 
sique without suffering a loss of nervous vitality and power. 
Each child In a family should have Its own bed, and at the 
proper age its own chamber ; beds and chambers to be clean, 
orderly, and as prettily furnished as the parents' means will 
allow. Especially is this a necessity with the daughters of a 
house. Every mother will remember how dear to herself, In 
her girlish days, was the chance of seclusion — the chest of 
drawers where she could store away her laces, ribbons, and 
other dearer trifles ; the locked desk, with the diary inside ; 
the white chamber, with its snowy curtains, where she could 
hang her dried ferns and photographs, and sit alone to ponder 
over her compositions, or read her Bible. A boy has his fan- 
cies, tastes, hobbles, as well as a girl. He may not want 
seclusion, but he does want elbow-room, and he ought to have 
it. Bob Is a mighty fisherman, and clutters up the one closet 
with poles and lines, hooks, and books of flies. Jim has 
reached the autograph stage, and must have a desk and quires 
of paper with which to assault everybody mentioned in the 
newspapers, from Longfellow to Buffalo Bill. Tom has a mass 
of old rubbish collected at junk-shops, having caught the 
curlophobia from his mother ; and Bill heaps on top of all his 
balls, bats, old shoes, and half- eaten apples. 

Of course, it is expensive to give to each boy room for his 
hobbies and belongings ; but, after all, It will not cost half as 
much as to refurnish the drawing-room with Turkish rugs and 
furniture from Sypher's. And do we owe most to our neigh- 
bors, or our boys ? Whose tastes, habits of order, cleanHness, 
delicacy, ought we to cultivate ? 

We wish, however, especially to urge upon mothers the 
propriety of giving up to the boys, as soon as they reach the 



508 HOME TOPICS. 

age of twelve or fourteen, one room (not a bed-chamber) for 
whose (reasonably) good order they shall be responsible, and 
which they shall consider wholly their own. The floor should 
be uncarpeted, of oiled wood ; the furniture of the same mate- 
rial. Let it be papered, curtained, decorated according to the 
boys' own fancy ; if the taste is bad, they will be interested 
after a while in correcting it. There should be plain book- 
cases, a big, solid table in the center, by all means an open 
fire, and room after that for Joe's printing-press, or Charley's 
box of tools, or Sam's cabinet of minerals ; for chess and 
checker boards, or any other game which is deemed proper. 
To this room the boys should be allowed to invite their friends, 
and learn how to be hospitable hosts even to the extent of an 
innocent little feast now and then. Father, mother, and sisters 
should refrain from entering it except as guests; and, our word 
for it, they will be doubly honored and welcomed when they 
do come. 

Somebody will ask, no doubt, what is the use of pampering 
boys in this way, or of catering to them with games and com- 
pany ? Simply because they will have the amusement, the 
games and company, somehow and somewhere ; and if not 
under their father's roof, with such quiet surroundings as befit 
those who are to be bred as gentlemen, the games may be 
gambling, and the company and suppers those which the near- 
est tavern affords. As for the cost, no money is ill spent 
which develops in a right direction a boy's healthy character 
or idiosyncrasies at the most perilous period of his life, or 
which helps to soften and humanize him, and to make more 
dear and attractive his home and family. If it can be ill 
spared, let it be withdrawn for this purpose from dress, house- 
hold luxury, the sum laid by for a rainy day — even from 
other charities and duties. We do not wish to help the lad 
sow his wild oats, but to take care that the oats are not wild,, 
and are thoroughly well sown. 




THE OPEN FIRE. 



WOOD FIRES. 509 

WOOD FIRES, 

TTfE grant that an open fire is "incompetent to heat our 
VV houses"; but we beheve it can be made such an impor- 
tant factor in the culture of children, that we have no hesita- 
tion in urging others to try it. In houses that are wholly 
warmed by furnace, the family circle is likely to become 
impaired. The children take their friends to their own rooms, 
and the mother rarely becomes intimately acquainted with 
their associates. Around a wood fire, all naturally come 
together; what interests one, comes in a little while to interest 
all, and the children learn to be open and free. The fire 
warms the heart as well as the body. A wood fire lit early 
in the evening, when the children are home from school, is all 
that is necessary. When the boys get used to coming in from 
the cold and snow to find a cheerful hickory fire blazing on 
the parlor hearth, with the room not too nicely furnished for 
them to use, they will not want to leave it for any outside 
attractions. The moment the familiar whistle is heard in the 
evening, let some kindling wood be thrust under the logs. 
The pleasant sensation produced by a blazing fire, if repeated 
every day, winter after winter, amounts to a great deal of 
happiness in a boy's life- time, and will never be forgotten. It 
is difficult to overestimate the value of this central gathering- 
place for the whole family. Wood fires are not dusty, and 
when used not for heat, but for cheer, and only in the evening, 
are not costly. The moderate heat of a furnace or stove is 
sufficient for the parlor by day, and but little wood in the fire- 
place is necessary to make it comfortable at night. Indeed, 
the register often has to be turned off and the doors have to 
be closed to keep the heat of the house from rushing into the 
parlor. The wood fire ventilates, and thus not only are the 
feet kept warm, but the head remains cool. Half a cord of 
hickory wood lasts us about a month, and we use it on Sun- 
days after church, and on other days if we have friends to 
dinner, or the children are to be at home. In spring and fall 
an open fire-place is particularly useful. Every one knows 



5IO HOME TOPICS. 

how the furnace is disHked in moderate weather, but by using 
at such times the wood alone, the desired heat is obtained, and 
far more than the cost saved in the coal that would be burned 
to waste. If the fire-place is painted black, there will be a 
good background for the red flame, and the brick-work will 
not be made to look shabby by the smoke. Let it be a good, 
hearty, blazing fire, or none at all. Better to save in fine fur- 
niture, or in rich desserts, than put on logs sparingly. Brass 
andirons are the best, for they never wear out, and the labor 
in keeping them bright is much exaggerated. The wood 
should be sawed in but two pieces, so as to reach clear over 
both andirons. A lot of corn-cobs will make a hot, quick 
blaze, just before the children go up to bed, and will make 
their slumber all the sweeter. 



NEWSPAPERS, DOMESTICALLY CONSIDERED. 

TOO low an estimate is apt to be set on the domestic value 
of newspapers. After reading them, and putting ourselves, 
through their agency, in mental correspondence with the world, 
they are thrown aside and forgotten. But to suppose their 
usefulness bounded by their news columns and the waste-bag 
is a thriftless mistake. 

In the first place, there are the household recipes to be 
found in ^tray corners, often excellent, and deserving a refuge 
on the fly-leaf of the family cook-book. Then come the pretty 
verses, the strange and droll stories, the brief biographies and 
reminiscences which, pasted ini a scrap-book, are a source of 
never-ending pleasure, not only to those who do not care for 
richer intellectual food, but to those who have only odd minutes 
for reading. 

Notwithstanding the squibs jocular journalists have penned 
on the use of newspapers for bed-clothing, we know from 



NEWSPAPERS, DOMESTICALLY CONSIDERED. 5 II 

experience that these are not to be despised. They may not 
be as comfortable as your blankets, but certainly they keep 
out the cold. Two thicknesses of papers are better than a pair 
of blankets, and in the case of persons who dislike the weight 
of many bed-clothes, they are invaluable. A spread made of 
a double layer of papers, between a covering of calico or chintz, 
is desirable in every household. The papers should be tacked 
together with thread, and also basted to the covering to keep 
them from slipping. An objection has been made on account 
of the rustling, but if soft papers be chosen the noise will not 
be annoying, especially should the spread be laid between a 
blanket and the counterpane. 

As a protection to plants against cold, both in and out of 
doors, nothing is better. If newspapers are pinned up over 
night at a window between pots and glass, the flowers will not 
only not be frozen, but will not even get chilled, as they are so 
liable to be at this season. In the same way, if taken to cover 
garden-beds, on the frosty nights of early autumn, they will 
allow the plants to remain safely outdoors some time later 
than is common. 

One of the oddest services to put our journals to is the 
keeping of ice in summer. An ingenious housekeeper recently 
discovered that her daily lump of ice would last nearly twice 
as long when wrapped in newspapers, and placed in any kind 
of covered box, as when trusted solely to a refrigerator. This 
is very convenient, since it is possible to have the best and 
cheapest refrigerator constantly at hand. 

To polish all kinds of glass after washing, except table 
glass, no cloth or flannel is half so good as a newspaper ; and 
for a baker's dozen of other uses, quite foreign to its primal 
purpose, it is without rival. 



512 HOME TOPICS. 

HINTS IN HOUSE-CLEANING TIME. 

THESE are the days of the year when, according to all 
housewives' creeds, the house must be regenerated. Not, 
of course, the city house ; neither the brown-stone palace on 
Murray Hill, nor even the milder expressions of brick and 
mortar grandeur on quiet side-streets ; at this season fashion 
demands that these shall lapse into brown Holland and dust, 
and lie torpid until October. But from sea to sea, in all 
the towns, and villages, and farm-places, the innumerable 
legions of two-story brick houses and wooden villas have just 
undergone the swashing and drenching of spring cleaning, and 
their anxious mistresses are eagerly considering how they may 
be made more comfortable and prettier for the coming year. 
This is the proper season for such preparation, the winter 
stoves and their dust being at an end, and the farm work, and 
canning, preserving, and meat-salting, not yet begun. We have 
a word or two of advice to these housekeepers, with ambitious 
desires and lean pocket-books, who never saw afi '' artistic 
upholsterer," and to whom bric-a-brac, or proofs before letters, 
are phrases of an unknown tongue. 

First. The principal object of hopeless longing is, nine times 
in ten, a new carpet. Now, why a carpet at all ? It will 
require at least two-thirds of the money you allot for furnish- 
ing — it always does. No doubt the horrible rumor will spread 

through the village that Mrs. B "is reduced to bare 

floors." But you can retaliate and triumph by citing the most 
costly houses in New York, furnished in the native woods — the 
very wood which grows at your back door ; that is, if you are 
not strong enough to possess your soul and pretty floor in 
silence and comfort. The floors of every new house should be 
finished with well-seasoned chestnut, ash, walnut, or yellow 
pine, which may be either varnished or oiled. You have then 
a surface under your feet, with exquisite graining and color, 
which no loom can equal, and which never needs patch, darn, 
or renewal. In the living-room, chambers, or nursery, a carpet 
simply becomes a breeding-place of dust, impurity of air, and 



HINTS IX HOUSE-CLEANING TIME. 513 

disease. Color and warmth, if necessary, may be given by 
home-made mats, which can be removed and shaken every 
day, as are the costly skins, Persian and Egyptian rugs, in 
city houses. 

Seco7id. Having thus saved the price of the carpets, you can 
afford more to furniture and decoration; and just here we warn 
you to beware of the ''cheap and pretty" system urged in many 
fashion periodicals. A substantial set of chamber furniture, of 
good wood and graceful outline, will outlast a dozen flimsy, 
painted cottage suits, and increase in softness of tone and 
beauty every year. The economical young housekeeper, too, 
is apt to cover her walls with chromos, which are given away 
by tea or life insurance companies, and which hopelessly vul- 
garize her own taste and that of her children ; she pastes gilt 
paper on wood to make window-cornices ; she makes barrel- 
chairs ; she spends weeks and months of leisure time in sewing 
bits of colored cloth on Turkish toweling, or working silk and 
gold thread on canvas for chair-covers or afghans ; the covers 
and afghans cost twice as much as clear-tinted woolen reps, 
and are abominations to the eye ; her time is w^asted ; the 
mock gilding spots will mildew in a month ; the staves of the 
barrel give way, and the visitor collapses inside ; the whole 
house is a palpable fraud, a cheap imitation, and an imitation 
which soon grows shabby, and requires perpetual renewal. 
There is no excuse in poverty for sham or flimsiness. The 
money invested in Turkish toweling, in decalcomanies, or 
potichomanies, would give to the walls of a room a soft, grate- 
ful color ; furnish them with good photographs of the best 
pictures, and excellent casts of two or three of the greatest 
works of art ; would buy strong, artistically made chairs ; place 
a table in the center of the room ; cover it with books and 
work, and fill the windows with living flowers and trailing ivy. 
In such a room there would be beauty, service, and an educa- 
tion for both mother and children. If our housekeeper will 
give her leisure time for a year to the study of her children, 
her photographs, and her flowers, she will be first to laugh at 
her sham gilding and monsters of fancy-work. 
33 



514 HOME TOPICS. 

ODD MINUTES OF WAITING. 



^ 



T'HILE you are arranging the parlor, just have a thought 



' V for the visitors who must sometimes wait to see you, and 
carefully refrain from putting every object of interest beyond 
their reach. Of course, as a careful hostess, you never mean 
to keep callers waiting ; but if they come when the baby is on 
the eve of dropping to sleep, or you are in the midst of plan- 
ning dinner with the cook, you must delay a little, while they 
are reduced to staring out of the window, or to an involuntary 
effort to penetrate some insignificant household secret. The 
family photograph album is usually regarded as a sufficient 
resource in moments like these; but is there not something akin 
to indelicacy in allowing strangers and ordinary acquaintances 
to turn over the likenesses of our nearest and dearest — perhaps 
to criticise them with the freedom of unfamiliarity, or the 
unsympathy natural to a lack of personal appreciation? 

The late magazines, a book of good engravings, a house- 
hold volume of poetry, a stereoscope and views, photographs 
of foreign scenes, and a dozen other things, are all good aids to 
the occupation of stray minutes. Moreover, they often suggest 
to the visitor and the host topics of conversation more profita- 
ble and interesting than the state of the weather or the history 
of the kitchen. 



A LOST METHOD OF EXPRESSION 

CITY people, no doubt, labor under the impression that the 
" homes " of America are opened and cleansed after a 
summer of dust and darkness and quiet ; and that " society " 
comes back to them like a scattered flock of brilliant birds to 
their nests, from mountain and sea-shore, the Yosemite and 
Europe. The fact is, that the number of people who leave 
home in summer, large as it is, is but as the foam upon the 



A LOST METHOD OF EXPRESSION. 515 

ocean current compared to the vast quiet mass who stay in 
their houses the year round, and make, and want to make, no 
especial bruit therein at any time. In these houses, the sum- 
mer is the busiest, cheerfuiest, most hospitable time; and the 
fall, instead of bringing reunions and state dinners brightened 
with reminiscences of Newport, or Paris, or Mount Desert, is 
given over to canning, pickling, and preserving. City people 
who order their table luxuries and desserts from outside, as 
regularly as their coal and butter, have little idea of the 
momentous stir and excitement which pervade the kitchens in 
towns and villages all over the country when the fall fruits and 
vegetables come in ; the anxious consultation between house- 
keepers as to the relative merits of different glass jars, or the 
probable crop of quinces, or the rumored failure of Bartlett 
pears. For, this higher branch of housewifery is seldom handed 
over to servants ; it is the fine art of cookery, in which, in the 
West and South, the matrons are artists and young girls are 
instructed as a necessary qualification to marriage. When we 
remember a certain sunny, airy Pennsylvania kitchen that we 
have seen, with the wind from the autumn-tinted hills sweeping 
through it, and a bright-eyed little woman surveying her store 
of vegetables in shining cans and glass jars of yellow and crim- 
son fruit; or a great pantry in Virginia, with a rosy-cheeked 
little girl, in white apron and tucked-up hair, ranging proudly 
on its shelves the rows of glasses of translucent jellies, amber, 
sea-green, and ruby ; the mammoth jars of mysterious soys, 
and catsups, and pickles which she has evolved, with infinite 
skill and patience, out of a myriad of brass kettles, and weights, 
and spices, and all the products of the farm, — we protest the 
pictures are very pleasant to our eyes, and we feel that the 
women have done work as wholesome and fine as though they 
had conducted a public tea-party, or written a sickly poem, 
or delivered a lecture full of sound and hyperbole, meaning 
nothing. 

It has been too much the fashion of late to decry this de- 
partment of the work of housekeeping as useless and menial, 
and to insist that money ought to buy its result, leaving to the 



5l6 HOME TOPICS. 

wife and daughter time for self- improvement and higher duties. 
There can be no doubt that the average American housekeeper 
often becomes a slave to her store-closet, one-third of the year 
being spent in preparing food for the remainder ; canned vege- 
tables, salted meat, pickles, and preserves are often the mill- 
stone which drags her soul and body down to a very low level. 
But there is another side to the subject, and we may strike the 
just middle-ground on it as on any other. Nobody wants a 
George Eliot, or Florence Nightingale, or Jessie Fremont, to 
give her time to compounding piccalillis or preserves. But, 
while one woman is a leader in society, literature, or philan- 
thropy, ninety-nine adopt some smaller way to make them- 
selves useful and helpful in bettering and brightening the little 
world about them, and these smaller ways in city life are 
frequently incessant devotion to visiting, to music, to making 
horrible and exhausting efforts at house decoration. We con- 
fess that when we have sat down to feasts where the vegetables 
smacked too strongly of the professional canner's art, where 
the meats were ill- cooked, the offense of the pickles was rank 
with vitriol, and the desserts bore that inextinguishable flavor of 
the confectioner's shop, and when, after dinner, we have been 
called on to listen to feeble strumming of the piano, or weak 
criticisms on the last exhibition, or to admire works of art in the 
shape of spatterdash, or Persian embroideries on Turkish towel- 
ing, we have remembered the busy Pennsylvania kitchen and 
the bountiful tables of old Virginia matrons ; the delicious 
flavor, idiosyncrasy, if we may call it so, of every dish ; the 
care with which the father's taste in soups, and the boys' fancy 
for certain jams, were remembered from year to year ; the 
thousand ways in which skill and good taste and affection were 
shown in this base art of cookery ; the genuine, home-made 
flavor of the dishes, the talk, the very fun — we are not at all 
sure that women, in ignoring this ancient craft so utterly, have 
not slighted one of their strongest modes of expression. 



THE POETRY OF THE TABLE 517 

THE POETRY OF THE TABLE. 

IN the first place, a starched and smoothly ironed table- 
cloth — which, if neatly folded after every meal, will look 
well for several days. Then flowers and ferns in flat dishes, 
baskets, or small vases — or else a tiny nosegay laid upon 
every napkin. 

The salt must be pure and smooth. The butter should be 
molded into criss-crossed diamonds, shells, or globes, with the 
paddles made for this purpose. 

A few pretty dishes will make the plainest table glow — a 
small, bright-colored platter for pickles, horse-radish, or jelly; 
and butter-plates representing green leaves are also attractive. 

A few pennies' worth of parsley or cress, mingled with 
small scraps of white paper daintily clipped, will cause a plain 
dish to assume the air of a French entree. A platter of hash 
may be ornamented with an edging of toasted or fried bread 
cut into points; and a dish of mutton-chops is much more im- 
pressive with the bones stacked as soldiers stack their guns, 
forming a pyramid in the center — each bone adorned with a 
frill of cut paper. A few slices of lemon, mingled with sprigs 
of parsley and slices of hard-boiled eggs, form a pretty garnish 
to many dishes ; and nothing could be more appetizing than 
beef, veal, mutton, or lamb made into mince-meat, and pressed 
into form in a wine-glass, then fried in pork fat, with a sprig of 
green placed in the top of each little cone. The basket of 
fruit — peaches, pears, grapes, or apples, oranges, and grapes — 
should be tastefully arranged and trimmed with leaves and 
flowers. The bowl of salad should be ornamented with the 
scarlet and orange flowers of the tropaeolum — their piquant 
flavor adding zest to the lettuce, with which they can be eaten. 



5l8 HOME TOPICS. 

AROUND THE DINNER-TABLE. 

\ MERELY bounteous table is not always welcome or 
x~\. appetizing. Two or three dishes, well prepared and 
daintily arranged, are superior to a dozen carelessly and 
inartistically put on. Hospitality is often confounded with 
profusion ; and some of us are apt to believe that we play the 
host ill unless we persuade our guests into eating a great deal. 
This sort of entertainment is simply material, though it is com- 
moner than we think. 

The pleasures of the table should appeal to the eye and 
mind, as well as to the palate. Form should be consulted ; 
grace should be indispensable. The savor of food gains much 
from its setting and its accompaniments. A few flowers, per- 
fect order and neatness, with congeniality and sympathy about 
the board, will insure what an Apician feast might not. 

The day of uniformity in table, as well as other furniture, 
has passed, the present fancy being for oddness and variety. 
This, apart from picturesqueness, is both convenient and eco- 
nomical, since the breaking of one or two pieces does not neces- 
sitate the purchase of an entire new set. It is not unusua] 
now to see, on elegant breakfast-tables, each coffee-cup different 
from its neighbor, and no two of the plates alike. But it is at 
tea — most informal of meals — that the greatest variety and 
the prettiest effects may be produced. 

Flowers have come to be indispensable to many tables, and 
they will be ere long, let us hope, indispensable to all. They 
need not be rare nor costly. They are so beautiful, even the 
plainest and poorest of them, that nothing else can supply 
their place. A few green leaves, a dozen way-side daisies, a 
bunch of violets, impart a charm and awake in us the touch 
of Nature. 

But, more than all that is on the table, is the spirit brought 
to it. There can be no high enjoyment of the senses un- 
attended by sympathy. Disquietude of mind at table is the 
precursor of indigestion. They who are invited to dinner, and 
take thereto anxiety and discontent, defraud the host of a 



HOMEKEEPING VERSUS HOUSEKEEPING. 519 

proper return for his hospitality. No one has a right to go 
socially where he does not hope to give some sort of com- 
pensation. The table-cloth should be the flag of truce in the 
battles of every-day life. We should respect it, and, in its 
presence, commend ourselves to peace. 



HOMEKEEPING VERSUS HOUSEKEEPING. 

THE truest homes are often in houses not especially well 
kept, where the comfort and happiness of the inmates, 
rather than the preservation of the furniture, are first consulted. 
The object of home is to be the center, the point of tenderest 
interest, the pivot on which family life turns. The first requi- 
site is to make it attractive — so attractive that none of its 
inmates shall care to linger long outside its limits. All legiti- 
mate means should be employed to this end, and no effort 
spared that can contribute to the purpose. "^Many houses 
called homes, kept with waxy neatness by painstaking, anxious 
women, are so oppressive in their nicety as to exclude all 
home-feeling from their spotless precincts. The very name 
of home is synonymous with personal freedom and relaxation 
from care. But neither of these can be felt where such a 
mania for external cleanliness pervades the household as to 
render everything else subservient thereto. Many housewives, 
if they see a speck on floor or wall, or even a scrap of thread 
or bit of paper on the floor, rush at it, as if it w^ere the seed 
of pestilence which must be removed on the instant. Their 
temper depends upon their maintenance of perfect purity and 
order. If there be any failure on their part, or any combi- 
nation of circumstances against them, they fall into a pathetic 
despair, and can hardly be lifted out. They do not see that 
cheerfulness is more needful to home than all the spotlessness 
that ever shone. Their disposition to wage war upon macu- 



520 HOME TOPICS. 

lateness of any sort increases until they become slaves of the 
broom and dust-pan. Neatness is one thing and a state of 
perpetual house-cleaning quite another. 

Out of this grows by degrees the feeling that certain things 
and apartments are too good for daily use. Hence, chairs 
and sofas are covered, and rooms shut up, save for special 
occasions, when they are permitted to reveal their violated 
sacredness in a manner that mars every pretense of hospi- 
tality. Nothing should be bought which is considered too 
fine for the fullest domestic appropriation. Far better is the 
plainest furniture, on which the children can climb, than satin 
and damask, which must be viewed with reverence. Where 
anything is reserved or secluded, to disguise the fact is 
extremely difficult. A chilly air wraps it around, and the 
repulsion of strangeness is experienced by the most insensible. 

There are few persons who have not visited houses where 
they have been introduced to what is known as the company 
parlor. They must remember how uncomfortable they were 
while sitting in it; how they found it almost impossible to be 
at ease, and mainly for the reason that their host and hostess 
were not themselves at ease. The children were watched with 
lynx eyes, lest they should displace or soil something; so that 
the entertainment of friends became very much like a social 
discipline. They must recall, too, how sweet the fresh air 
seemed out-of-doors, and how they inwardly vowed, in leav- 
ing that temple of form and fidgetiness, that something more 
than politeness would be required to incite them to return^ 

Home is not a name, nor a form, nor a routine. It is a 
spirit, a presence, a principle. Material and method will not 
and can not make it. It must get its light and sweetness from 
those who inhabit it, from flowers and sunshine, from the sym- 
pathetic natures which, in their exercise of sympathy, can lay 
aside the tyranny of the broom and the awful duty of endless 
scrubbing. — 



THE PENALTY OF MOVING. $21 

THE PENALTY OF MOVING. 

ADULTS are prone to think of this intolerable but often 
necessary annoyance only as it affects them. The influ- 
ence of continuous change of abode is far more pernicious to 
children than is commonly imagined. At the time, they rather 
enjoy the topsy-turvy condition of things, and their love of 
novelty is gratified by going somewhere else. But, as they 
grow up, — and more after they have grown up, — they look 
back upon their past life, which should be full of home associ- 
ations, as a sort of domestic game of " pussy-wants-a-corner." 
They have no pleasant memory of household gods or house- 
hold altars. The parental idea is marred by repeated shiftings 
from one roof to another before the filial feeling has had time 
to spread its tendrils, or even to take substantial root. 

It is impossible to overestimate the effect of a pleasant 
home-life upon the mind as w^ell as the heart. Men and 
women who have had happy homes in their childhood and 
youth will be anxious to re-create them by marriage and 
domesticity. Nothing of the sort can reasonably be expected 
where the home has been but a repetition of houses in which 
meals have been eaten and lodgings secured. 

Hotels are notoriously bad for the rearing of children; and 
yet how much better is a dwelling occupied for one or two 
years, and then surrendered for another and another ? 

We Americans have not such an excess of domesticity as 
to be able to spare any of it. On the contrary, we need to 
cultivate all we have, instead of reducing the slender original 
stock by playing at hide-and-seek with our neighbors. Very 
often it is not possible for a family to stay in one place; but 
where it is possible, it should be made a domestic religion not 
to move. * 

Is it not probable that much of what is known as unhappy 
temperament, — the restlessness, irresolution, and despondency 
of after-life, — may have no meaner or profounder origin than 
the May-day inconveniences which annually thrust farther out 
of reach the possibilities of a substantial home-feeling? 



':>22 HOME TOPICS. 

HOUSE AND HOME BUILDING. 

IN building the best class of New York City houses, or even 
the second class, the housekeeper's wants are considered 
with an insight and a minuteness of detail which are not 
to be found, perhaps, anywhere else. Our grandmothers, 
famous housewives as they were compared to their degen- 
erate daughters, would be amazed at the appliances for 
the physical comfort and convenience, not only of mas- 
ter and mistress, but of cook and butler, in these splendid 
and honestly built mansions. But there are thousands of 
dwellings which spring up like mushrooms every year in 
this and other cities, as splendid outwardly, but by no 
means as honestly built. They are imitated in every provin- 
cial town and village ; the uncomfortable and showy type of 
house is considered in fact " the style " by imitative people. 
We could name whole towns, not two hours from New York, 
composed of flamboyant pasteboard villas, gorgeously deco- 
rated without, and consisting within of a magnificent hall, 
drawing and dining rooms, and show chambers, while kitchen, 
pantries, and cellars are small, dark, and thrust, as far as may 
be, out of sight and existence altogether. Now, it is inconsid- 
erate enough for the New York house-owner and his wife, who 
do not visit their kitchens or cellars twice a year, to make them 
uninhabitable, but for people to follow their example who are 
compelled to do their own work half of the time is a subserv- 
ience to fashion only possible to a certain class of Americans. 
If any one be in doubt of our meaning, let him enter one of the 
"elegant and commodious mansions" built in blocks in New 
York and Philadelphia and offered at once for sale. It is use- 
iess to hope for reform in houses built frequently en masse by 
contract ; but practical housekeepers here, or in villages in the 
far West, who build their own houses may not despise a few 
practical suggestions. 

First, let your cellars be large, well ventilated, and lined with 
stone or cemented above the level of the ground. The breath 
of life in furnace-heated houses depends literally on the air in 



HOUSE AND HOME BUILDING. 523 

the cellar, unless there be a flue for fresh air extending from 
the furnace out-of-doors (never the case in cheap, showy 
houses). The air of the whole house is sucked through this 
narrow and often unclean apartment, the care of which is usu- 
ally intrusted to ignorant servants. Malaria is often engen- 
dered by massing quantities of vegetables in the cellars, as is 
the practice in farm-houses during the winter. The lining of 
stone or cement not only prevents dampness, but is absolutely 
necessary in streets through which the sewers pass, as a pro- 
tection from rats. Terriers, ferrets, traps, or poison are feeble 
defenses against the legions which swarm in nightly from a 
neighboring culvert. Next to the cellars comes the kitchen, 
which should be large, airy, and sunny. To take no higher 
ground, conveniences in this department are a politic invest- 
ment which pays a full interest of capital, especially to the 
housekeeper who does not live in a large city. Stationary 
tubs, closets beneath the dressers for flour, dry groceries, spices, 
etc., will be likely to tempt into her household a better class 
of servants, and when she is forced to turn cook and baker her- 
self, will take half the burden from her weary hands. An 
addition to comfort much neglected by builders is the lighting 
of stair-ways, closets, pantries. We have in our mind's eye a 
modest little house, in a closely built neighborhood of dark 
dwellings, which gives you a sunny, cheerful welcome in every 
corner — a result produced not only by windows wherever a 
window is practicable, but by a sky-light of plate-glass, which 
sends down sunshine through three floors of closets, halls, and 
pantries. A mistake made, also, which resolves itself into a 
question of humanity, is the placing the servants' chambers on 
the top of the house, be that three or seven stories above the 
kitchen. Passing along a city street at night, one cannot look 
up at the dim lights burning in these far skyey attics without 
a groan of compassion for the w^earied wretches dragging them- 
selves to their beds up yonder after the day's hard labor. 



524 HOME TOPICS. 

NURSERY DECORATION AND HYGIENE. 

T Y idea of a model nursery," said a fine lady, not long 
ago, " is a padded room, with barred windows, and 
everything in it, when not in use, hung out of reach upon the 
walls. Then, one might sit down-stairs in the drawing-room, 
and read, or practice, or receive, with a mind at rest." But 
what of the melancholy little starUngs caged above, piping 
their woful plaint, " I can't get out " ? And, in many cases, it 
is no wonder they should want to get out. 

To the nursery are generally consigned, year after year, 
all the faded fineries from down-stairs, the worn carpets, the 
sHghtly soiled chintz, the decrepit tables and chairs. It is a 
Hotel des Invalides for retired furniture. This, of course, does 
not refer to the first nursery, fitted up with floating draperies 
of pink and blue, with fine embroidery and cobweb lace, with 
costly cradle and dainty basket, for the installation of that 
unparalleled wonder — His Serene Highness, Baby Number 
One — with a prime minister in attendance, to whom all this 
magnificence appears but dross, whose manner is of the mildly 
enduring sort, as becomes one who has been used to better 
things, but, in spite of all, condescends to exalt with her pres- 
ence, for a space, these humble scenes ! 

During a little while Baby reclines at ease amid his princely 
surroundings ; but, by and by, when abandoned by his prime 
minister, the natural self-assertion of man takes possession of 
him. He kicks over the bassinet, rends his filmy envelope of 
silk and lawn, makes ducks and drakes of the interior of his 
dressing-basket, sets the ivory brushes afloat in his bath-tub, 
and cuts his teeth upon any object within reach, other than the 
coral and bells provided for the purpose by an infatuated 
godfather. 

Then, at last, does an indignant and long-suflering house- 
hold turn upon this aggressive ruler, and send him into banish- 
ment. An usurper sits upon his throne, who is, in turn, 
displaced, and goes to join his hapless comrade condemned to 
hard labor in the third-storv Siberia ; and so until the ranks are 



NURSERY DECORATION AND HYGIENE. 525 

full, till the pink and blue have faded out of the draperies, and a 
new baby has ceased to be a wonder. 

To redress the wrongs of these little exiles, in the matter 
of brightening their place of retirement, is a task outside the 
limit of any society as yet organized in behalf of injured inno- 
cence, but none the less is worthy and important. 

We enter the average nursery to find it, perhaps, darkened 
by heavy moreen curtains of a style compelling their retirement 
from any of the modernized rooms down-stairs ; with a velvet 
or Brussels carpet, with half-effaced pattern of lilies and roses, 
long, since trodden into dingy uniformity of tint, and a rug of 
another color that, as they say in France, swears at all the 
rest. The paper upon the walls, soiled by finger-marks, has a 
pattern of green and yellow stripes. The furniture is cumbrous 
and shabby ; the fire hidden from sight by an iron guard, 
where draperies forever hang. Homely articles of wearing 
apparel depend from door and chair-backs ; combs and brushes 
mingle with medicine bottles and spoons upon the dressing- 
bureau. If the nurse rallies, in a frantic attempt to put things 
to rights, her idea, generally, is to clear the floor of blocks and 
toys, and rigidly taboo their re-appearance — bidding the 
children amuse themselves, very much as Miss Havisham 
solemnly exhorted poor Pip to play, when he, looking about 
vainly for the ways and means thereto, conceived a vague idea 
of turning somersaults ! Over all, there is a tenement-house air 
that can hardly be realized by the visitor who has ascended, by 
slow degrees, through every stage of a beautifully decorated 
home. 

This, not so common as of old, will be, in a short time, I 
hope, only the exception to the rule. There are sundry con- 
ditions leading to reform that cannot be too strongly enforced. 
It seems hardly necessary to suggest that the first essential is 
light — the pitiless foe to untidiness, the inspiration to cheerful 
thoughts, happy tempers, and healthy bodies. A nursery 
should, if possible, have a southern exposure — the windows 
guarded without by an iron net-work, which may be painted 
green with gilded top, rising above the level of the child's 



26 HOME TOPICS. 



shoulder, lest he be seized with a fancy to stand up there and 
survey the world when nobody is near. Inside this net-work 
an ivy may be trained, and a few pots of hardy scarlet gera- 
nium, wall-flower, and mignonette be placed, when spring 
comes in. To water these plants might be the reward for a 
day of good behavior in the nursery. 

In this day of cheap and charming wall-papers', one has but 
to go to the nearest shop to find a dozen suggestions, any one 
of which will lend the nursery a charm, requiring but few 
additions, to transform any room into a cheerful home for the 
little folks. A dado of India matting, in red and white checks, 
is very popular, and goes far toward furnishing the room. In 
one nursery, the mother has left a space, three or four feet 
high above the weather-board, plain — for each child to con- 
tribute his own idea in decoration with pictures cut out of books 
and illustrated weeklies, and collected by himself 

Above, and not too high, should be hung pictures. Be 
liberal with these, and choice. Give your children Sir Joshua 
Reynolds's dainty little darlings for their companions, and 
engravings or plain photographs of any of the delightful little 
genre pictures of French, or English, or German art, that 
come to us so freely now. A picture with a moral will 
accomplish far more in early childhood than one of ^sop's 
fables. The first aspiration toward a career of true greatness 
may be struck into a boy's guileless nature as he stands gazing 
up at some scene which tells a tale of self-renouncing heroism. 

" An open fire, and a kettle simmering upon the hob," are 
part of Sydney Smith's receipt for cheerfulness. His third 
ingredient, *' a paper of sugar-plums upon the mantel-piece," 
would have a singular demorahzing effect, if introduced here ! 
Hot air from a register, or from a close stove, though so 
universally condemned, is unfortunately too often used to be 
overlooked here ; but an appliance to contain a liberal supply 
of water has lately been invented, and is now in successful use 
at the Nursery and Child's Hospital in New York, among 
other places, which is most valuable for moistening the air 
from furnace flues on its passage into a room. Where an open 



NURSERY DECORATION AND HVGIE^^E. 527 

hard-coal fire is used, a very simple suggestion, made a few 
years ago by one of the most distinguished medical authorities 
in New York (Dr. Lewis A. Sayre), is excellent. An ordinary 
kettle is set on a trivet by the open fire, and to the spout of 
this is affixed a tin tube, extended several feet above the level 
of the top of the fire-place, and ending in a wide-mouthed 
funnel, through which the steam pours night and day, the 
kettle being kept continually full of water. By means of this 
unpretending device, moisture is so distributed throughout the 
room as not to be drawn immediately up the chimney, the 
close and parched atmosphere of an anthracite fire is made soft 
and pleasant, and, in cases of croup or scarlet fever particu- 
larly, the benefit is wonderful. So much for adherence to 
the dogmas of that high-priest of cheerfulness, Sydney 
Smith. 

It has come to be regarded as indispensable to the new 
regime that all carpets covering the floor shall be banished in 
favor of '' strips, and bits, and rugs." May I enter a modest 
protest in behalf of a nursery carpet ? Not only do the chil- 
dren slip and trip continually upon scattered pieces of carpet, 
but baby, whom you have established with all his belongings 
upon an island of rug, persists in abandoning it for the most 
distant and draughty corner of the stained-wood floor. Where 
the furniture is light, a three-ply carpet, taken away to be 
shaken every spring and autumn, can easily be kept clean by a 
respectable nurse. 

The furniture should be solid, but not heavy. Each child 
should have a cot or crib to himself, with a free circulation of 
air about it. Where it is impossible to have another room for 
dressing purposes, threefold screens can be used, made of stout 
muslin, stretched upon a frame, and covered by mother, nurse, 
and little ones with all that remains of the lovely Christmas 
picture-books, rescued and cut out before it be too late. These 
pictures, Walter Crane's especially, may be pasted also in the 
panels of the doors, and gay lines of blue and gold and scar- 
let described around them. The paper-hangers have taken a 
great deal of this pleasant labor off our hands, by introducing 



528 HOME TOPICS. 

a wall-paper covered with the well-known scenes from " Baby's 
Opera" and " Baby's Bouquet" 

Curtains should be limited in quantity and light in texture. 
Any pretty cretonne, blooming all over with pink roses, and 
green leaves, and gay birds, will delight a child, and the day 
coverings to the nurse's bed may be made of the same. For 
the children's beds there is nothing like spotless white. 
Another form of curtain, useful because it can be repeatedly 
washed throughout the season, is of plain white cotton stuff, 
bordered with figured Turkey-red and looped with bands of 
the same material. The only heading to these draperies 
should be a casing through which a light brass rod, fitted into 
sockets at each end, is run. 

In regard to color, I should advocate leaving mediaeval 
blues and dull sage-greens below stairs, in the library or bou- 
doir given over to high art. Give the little ones the A, B, C 
of decoration, with plenty of warm, honest red and 

''blue, 
Which will show your love is true.'* 

In your mantel decoration don't forget a clock ! It is nec- 
essary to the nurse, and valuable in every way to the children. 
I know of one nursery, where, at every hour and half- 
hour, two little white-robed figures, with ** bangs" in front, and 
golden curls behind, run and stand before a small, carved, 
wooden shrine upon the wall, to wait the coming out of the 
cuckoo, and, confessing their sins, beg his pardon for their 
naughtiness. To them, he is a veritable Mentor. 

I have said nothing of books, and blocks, and doll-houses, 
of gold-fish and canary birds, of tiny chairs and tables, of tea- 
sets, and broken rocking-horses, because, thank God! no home 
where there are children is wanting in these. 

I have suggested the need for the little folks of light, and 
warmth, and beauty, during the many hours they must inevi- 
tably be away from the mother's side. I wish it were possible 
to obtain, also, for all of them, a glimpse of green turf and 
tree-tops, be it nothing better than a city park. As I write, 



IN MOVING -TIMES. 529 

there comes to me the remembrance of a little fellow lying very 
ill in a bright and sunny room, while one member of the family 
after another came, with soft tread and tender voice, trying 
to woo him from the arms of his weary mother. There he 
lay, with tangled curls, with his beautiful face fever-flushed, 
and his great blue eyes asking pitifully for aid and rest from 
pain. At last, his father came into the room, and into that 
strong clasp the little sufferer went cheerfully. *' Hold me up 
at the window, papa," he asked. " I want to see into the 
park." Wrapped in a shawl, he was kept in that position for 
an hour, gazing out at the trees, and talking at intervals about 
the birds, until, soothed and comforted, he fell into the calm, 
deep sleep so long and earnestly desired by his watchers — a 
slumber that ushered in recovery. 



IN MOVING -TIMES. 

THE most important thing to remember when you move 
from one house to another is not to lose your head. 
This being well secured, you may verify the adage and find the 
ordeal not worse than three fires ; but if your head goes, and 
your temper follows suit, a Chicago conflagration is nothing to 
what your experiences will probably be. At the best of times, 
and under the most favorable conditions, to pack up, remove, 
and re-arrange your household goods and gods is as trying an 
infliction as we need wish for our worst enemy ; but when this 
situation is complicated by a family moving into your old 
house, and another moving out of the new ; when it is pro- 
longed by workmen who paint where you are to sleep, paper 
where your pictures wait to go, and mend locks in the doors 
through which you must pass, a woman may have some excuse 
if she would like to say something, perhaps too expressive, but 
soothing to herself 
34 



530 HOME TOPICS. 

But when you have to move, it is well to try and bring a 
little forethought and judgment into the matter. The great 
trouble in re-arranging is the difficulty of finding anything you 
want. You do not remember where such and such an article 
was put, and so there come a hunt and a rough misplace- 
ment of everything. The kitchen china is found in the front 
bedroom, the winter clothes are in the bath-room, and the pre- 
cious Sevres cups and saucers half unpacked in the nursery. 
If everything could be packed at one's leisure, it could be 
arranged well enough ; but, order as you will, there comes a 
climax of rush the day you move. The bed you are to sleep 
in to-night is the one you are just out of, and the supper-plates 
were used at breakfast-time; and when you pack so much at 
once, who can remember whether it was the pickle-jar or the 
molasses-jug that was put in a water-pitcher in the green tub ? 

But one thing you can do. You can carry a soft black 
pencil, or a piece of chalk, and even in the last moment can 
label as you pack. You need not mix the goods beyond a cer- 
tain limit, and you can try to pack with some judgment. It 
will be found an excellent plan to make some good, strong, big 
bags for all kinds of odds and ends, for soiled clothes, for 
patches and bundles, for everything that will go into a bag, 
and be sure to mark them. For the kitchen articles, use bar- 
rels, and for books and breakables, boxes. All of these mark 
plainly in this way : 

"Kitchen, pots and frying-pans:' "Kitchen, tins:' 
" Sitting-room, books for large book-case,'' etc. 

Of course you will need boxes for brackets, for ornaments 
of all kinds ; these you have in your bureau drawers. Under- 
clothes, and most of the ordinary contents of a bureau, you 
can make into neat packages, and so save the drawers for other 
uses. Of your books be careful. If you cannot box them, do 
not allow the carmen to pile them loosely in the wagon. The 
china will generally go into washing-tubs and clothes-baskets. 
Save old towels and newspapers, with a view to packing the 
china. In one basket or tub ought to be placed a complete 
service for the first meal in the new house, including knives ; 



IN MOVING -TIMES. 531 

then another should have the provisions, and these should go 
by one of the first loads. Of course, meat ought to have been 
roasted, ham boiled, coffee ground, and milk and groceries 
secured. The first days of moving give but little time for 
cooking, and there is no ignoring the appetite you will get, nor 
the strength you will need. 

If you want to " get fixed" soon, and with comfort, do not 
fail to have your carpets taken up, shaken, altered, and put 
down in your new house before you move even a nutmeg- 
grater. When they are down, the house will not only seem 
half arranged, but will be. The moving of furniture, to enable 
the men or yourself to fit and put down carpets, is so trouble- 
some and useless that no one who has a head, and is able 
to use and follow it, will submit to anything so absurd. Of 
course, the hall and stair carpets are left until the furniture is 
all placed. In arranging your order of moving, do not allow 
the carmen to take the goods helter-skelter; but, as far as pos- 
sible, move a room, a floor, at one time. This gives less 
chance of confusion, prevents running over the house, and is 
easier for the men. As to the order of moving, it is best to 
get your bedsteads and *beds off by the first loads, so that you 
may be sure of a place to sleep. If anything happens to pre- 
vent your finishing in one day, you can do without your 
parlor furniture better than your bedding. Tie up the furni- 
ture of each bed in separate bundles, and mark each. You will 
find that mattresses in the room and in the wagon are very dif- 
ferent in appearance, and if they are not marked, they will be 
very apt to get into the wrong rooms. 

Do not trust too much to the judgment and care of your 
jarmen. It is not easy to feel oneself master of such a situ- 
ation as this ; but it is best to try and make your people 
believe that you fancy yourself in power. And, speaking of 
carmen, if you have very fine furniture or pictures, it will 
pay you to engage a professional mover of such articles, if 
only for one load. The merit of the ordinary carman lies 
in his muscle, not his knowledge. Pianos, of course, demand 
special care. 



532 HOME TOPICS. 

And, finally, don't be discouraged by the general shabbi- 
ness of everything. It is a question whether Solomon's throne 
would have shown to advantage in a furniture wagon, and even 
if your sofas are torn and your chairs scratched, they have lost 
nothing in comfort or association, and you will probably find 
that they will settle down into their new places, and be as snug 
and cozy as of old. 



SERVANTS' ROOMS AND QUARTERS. 



SERVANTS' rooms should be papered, painted, kalsomined, 
curtained, and fitted up with nicety in every detail, with 
harmony in color, with womanly regard for womanly needs. 
Each maid should have a bed to herself; the blankets, spreads, 
and sheets passing from time to time under the eye of the mis- 
tress. The floor should be stained or oiled, and beside each 
cot should be laid a neat strip of carpet, or of the English 
''Napier" matting in stripes of maroon and ecru hemp — than 
which one can find nothing more neat and durable. A dressing- 
glass in a good light, a chest of drawers for clothes, a pin- 
cushion, a picture or two, low splint-bottom chairs and ample 
washing apparatus, are little enough to bestow on the comfort 
of your maids, upon whom so much of your own comfort daily 
and hourly depends. Let them hang up their palms, and their 
photographs of cousins in Sunday clothes. Instead o( a neck- 
ribbon, bestow upon them from time to time a little vase, a gay 
Japanese box, a *' Holy Family," or a work-basket. Give them 
a helping hand, and you will be astonished at the steady 
growth of just appreciation. 

Below-stairs, so much depends upon the temper and tend- 
encies of the queen of the kitchen, — the cook, — it is almost 
impossible to make any general rule for the ordering of our 
servants' home life. That the kitchen may be made an abode of 
pleasantness, every one can attest who has invaded that "haunt 



THE EXPRESSION OF ROOMS. 533 

of ancient peace" in a New England country dwelling. There 
assemble all things sweet-smelling, appetizing, wholesome (bar- 
ring the pies !), heart-cheering. The tins shine like the finest 
silver-ware ; the very boards are fragrant. This is not common 
in New York kitchens ; but a great deal may be done to render 
those under-ground prisons less gloomy. The servants' sitting- 
room, generally found in houses where a number of maids are 
kept, can be made inviting at very small cost. One is apt to 
underrate the influence of a pot of scarlet geraniums in a base- 
ment window, behind clear white muslin curtains, open to 
catch every wandering shaft of sunshine. Let your cook keep 
her parrot, if his voice penetrate not too sharply to the regions 
above. Compliment her neat shelves of blue china, choose her 
kitchen oil-cloth with a view to brightening her domain, buy 
for her pretty striped Algerian cotton table-cloths, leave a 
chair or two below that are not as hard as the nether mill- 
stone, when tired bones seek a moment of repose. Depend 
upon it, these little acts of thoughtfulness will come back to 
you in your roasts, in your gravies and your puddings, even 
if there were no higher motive for displaying them. 



777^ EXPRESSION OF ROOMS. 

ROOMS have just as much expression as faces. They pro- 
duce just as strong an impression on us at first sight. 
The instant we cross the threshold of a room, we know certain 
things about the person who lives in it. The walls and the 
floor, and the tables and chairs, all speak out at once, and 
betray some of their owner's secrets. They tell us whether 
she is neat or unneat, orderly or disorderly, and more than all, 
whether she is of a cheerful, sunny temperament, and loves 
beauty in all things, or is dull and heavy, and does not know 
pretty things from ugly ones. And just as these traits in 



534 HOME TOPICS. 

a person act on us, making us happy and cheerful, or gloomy 
and sad, so does the room act upon us. We may not know, 
perhaps, what it is that is raising or depressing our spirits ; we 
may not suspect that we could be influenced by such a thing ; 
but it is true, nevertheless. 

I have been in many rooms in which it was next to impos- 
sible to talk with any animation or pleasure, or to have any 
sort of good time. They were dark and dismal ; they were 
full of ugly furniture, badly arranged; the walls and the floors 
were covered with hideous colors ; no two things seemed to 
belong together, or to have any relation to each other ; so that 
the whole effect on the eye was almost as torturing as the 
effect on the ear would be of hearing a band of musicians 
playing on bad instruments, and all playing different tunes. 

I have also been in many rooms where you could not help 
having a good time, even if there were nothing especial going 
on in the way of conversation or amusement, just because the 
room was so bright and cozy. It did you good simply to sit 
still there. You almost thought you would like to go some- 
times when the owner was away, and you need not talk with 
anybody but the room itself 

In very many instances, the dismal rooms were the rooms 
on which a great deal of money had been spent, and the cozy 
rooms belonged to people who were by no means rich. There- 
fore, since rooms can be made cozy and cheerful with very 
little money, I think it is right to say that it is every 
woman's duty to make her rooms cozy and cheerful. I do 
not forget that I am speaking to girls who are for the most* 
part living in their parents' houses, and who have not, there- 
fore, the full control of their own rooms. But it is precisely 
during these years of life that the habits and tastes are formed ; 
and the girl who allows her own room in her father's house to 
be untidy and unadorned, will inevitably, if she ever has a 
house of her own, let that be untidy and unadorned too. 

There is not a reader of this paragraph, I am sure, who 
does not have in the course of the year pocket-money enough 
to do a great deal toward making her room beautiful. There 



THE EXPRESSION OF ROOMS. 535 

is not one whose parents do not spend for her, on Christmas 
and New Year's and her birthday, a sum of money, more 
or less, which they would gladly give to her, if she preferred 
it, to be spent in adorning her room. 

It is not at all impossible that her parents would like to 
give her also a small sum to be spent in ornamenting the 
common living-room of the house. This is really a work 
which daughters ought to do, and which busy, tired mothers 
would be very glad to have them do, if they show good 
taste in their arrangements. The girl who cares enough and 
understands enough about the expression of rooms to make 
her own room pretty, will not be long content while her 
mother's rooms are bare and uninviting, and she will come 
to have a new standard of values in the matter of 
spending-money as soon as she begins to want to buy things 
to make rooms pretty. 

How much better to have a fine plaster cast of Apollo 
or Clytie, than a gilt locket, for instance ! How much better 
to have a heliotype picture of one of Raphael's or Correggio's 
Madonnas, than seventy-five cents' worth of candy ! Six shil- 
lings will buy the heliotype, and three dollars the Clytie and 
Apollo both. 

No ! It is not a question of money ; it is a question of 
taste ; it is a question of choosing between good and beautiful 
things, and bad and ugly things — between things which last 
for years, and do you good every hour of every day, as often 
as you look at them, and things which are gone in an hour or 
a few days, and even for the few days or the hour do harm 
rather than good. 

Therefore, I think it is right to say that it is the duty of 
every one to have his or her rooms cheerful and cozy and, as 
far as possible, beautiful — the duty of every man and woman, 
the duty of every boy and girl. 

Volumes have been written to give minute directions for all 
the things which help to make rooms cozy and cheerful and 
beautiful, and I often see these volumes lying on tables in very 
dismal rooms. The truth is, these recipes are like many recipes 



536 HOME TOPICS. 

for good things to eat — it takes a good cook, in the beginning, 
to know how to make use of the recipe. But there are some 
first principles of the art which can be told in a very few words. 

The first essential for a cheerful room is sunshine. With- 
out this, money, labor, taste, are all thrown away. A dark 
room cannot be cheerful ; and it is as unwholesome as it is 
gloomy. Flowers will not blossom in it ; neither will people. 
Nobody knows, or ever will know, how many men and women 
have been killed by dark rooms. 

^' Glorify the room ! Glorify the room ! " Sydney Smith 
used to say of a morning, when he ordered every blind thrown 
open, every shade drawn up to the top of the window. Who- 
ever is fortunate enough to have a south-east or south-west 
corner room, may, if she chooses, Hve in such floods of sunny 
light that sickness will have hard work to get hold of her; and 
as for the blues, they will not dare to so much as knock at 
her door. 

Second on my list of essentials for a cheerful room I put — 
color. Many a room that would otherwise be charming is 
expressionless and tame for want of bright color. Don't be 
afraid of red. It is the most kindhng and inspiring of colors. 
No room can be perfect without a good deal of it. All the 
shades of scarlet or of crimson are good. In an autumn leaf, 
in a curtain, in a chair-cover, in a pin-cushion, in a vase, in the 
binding of a book — everywhere you put it, it makes a brilliant 
point and gives pleasure. The blind say that they always 
think red must be like the sound of a trumpet; and I think 
there is a deep truth in their instinct. It is the gladdest, most 
triumphant color everywhere. 

Next to red comes yellow ; this must be used very spar- 
ingly. No bouquet of flowers is complete without a little 
touch of yellow; and no room is as gay without yellow as 
with it. But a bouquet in which yellow predominates is ugly; 
the colors of all the other flowers are killed by it ; and a room 
which has one grain too much of yellow in it is hopelessly 
ruined. I have seen the whole expression of one side of a 
room altered, improved, toned up, by the taking out of two or 



THE EXPRESSION OF ROOMS. 537 

three bright yellow leaves from a big sheaf of sumacs and ferns. 
The best and safest color for walls is a delicate cream color. 
When I say best and safest, I mean the best background for 
bright colors and for pictures, and the color which is least in 
danger of disagreeing with anything you may want to put 
upon it. So also with floors ; the safest and best tint is a neu- 
tral gray. If you cannot have a bare wooden floor, either of 
black walnut, or stained to imitate it, then have a plain gray 
felt carpet. Above all things, avoid bright colors in a carpet. 
In rugs, to lay down on a plain gray, or on a dark-brown floor, 
the brighter the colors the better. The rugs are only so many 
distinct pictures, thrown up into relief here and there by the 
under-tint of gray or brown. But a pattern, either set or 
otherwise, of bright colors journeying up and down, back and 
forth, breadth after breadth, on a floor, is always and forever 
ugly. If one is so unfortunate as to enter on the possession 
of a room with such a carpet as this, or with a wall-paper of a 
similar nature, the first thing to be done, if possible, is to get 
rid of them or cover them up. Better have a ten-cent paper 
of neutral tints, and indistinguishable figures on the wall, and 
have bare floors painted brown or gray. 

Third on my list of essentials for making rooms cozy, cheer- 
ful, and beautiful, come books and pictures. Here some per- 
sons will cry out : *' But books and pictures cost a great deal 
of money." Yes, books do cost money, and so do pictures; 
but books accumulate rapidly in most houses where books are 
read at all ; and if people really want books, it is astonishing 
how many they contrive to get together in a few years without 
pinching themselves very seriously in other directions. 

As for pictures costing money, how much or how Httle 
they cost depends on what sort of pictures you buy. As I said 
before, you can buy for six shillings a good heliotype (which 
is to all intents and purposes as good as an engraving) of one 
of Raphael's or Correggio's Madonnas. But you can buy pict- 
ures much cheaper than that. A Japanese fan is a picture ; 
some of them are exquisite pictures, and blazing with color, 
too. They cost anywhere from two to six cents. There are 



538 HOME TOPICS. 

also Japanese pictures, printed on coarse paper, some two feet 
long and one broad, to be bought for twenty-five cents each ; 
with a dozen of these, a dozen or two of fans, and say four 
good heliotypes, you can make the walls of a small room so 
gay that a stranger's first impression on entering it will be that 
it is adorned for a festival. The fans can be pinned on the 
walls in endlessly picturesque combinations. One of the most 
effective is to pin them across the corners of the room, in over- 
lapping rows, like an old-fashioned card-rack. 

And here let me say a word about corners. They are wofully 
neglected. Even in rooms where very much has been done in 
way of decoration, you will see all the four corners left bare — 
forcing their ugly sharp right angle on your sight at every 
turn. They are as ugly as so many elbows ! Make the four 
corners pretty, and the room is pretty, even if very little else 
be done. Instead of having one stiff, straight-shelved book- 
case hanging on the wall, have a carpenter put triangular 
shelves into the corners. He will make them for thirty cents 
apiece, and screw them on the walls. Put a dozen books on 
each of the lower shelves, a bunch of autumn leaves, a pretty 
vase, a little bust of Clytie, or a photograph on a small easel, 
on the upper ones, and with a line of Japanese fans coming 
down to meet them from the cornice, the four corners are fur- 
nished and adorned. This is merely a suggestion of one out 
of dozens of ways in which walls can be made pleasant to look 
at without much cost. 

If the room has chintz curtains, these shelves will look well 
covered with the same chintz, with a plaited rufile tacked on 
their front edge. If the room has a predominant color, say a 
green carpet, or a border on the walls of claret or crimson, the 
shelves will look well with a narrow, straight border of billiard- 
cloth or baize (to match the ruling color of the room) pinked 
on the lower edge, and tacked on. Some people put on borders 
of gay colors, in embroidery. It is generally unsafe to add 
these to a room, but sometimes they have a good effect. 

Fourth on my list of essentials for a cozy, cheerful room, I 
put order. This is a dangerous thing to say, perhaps ; but it is 



THE EXPRESSION OF ROOMS. 539 

my honest conviction that sunHght, color, books, and pictures 
come before order. Observe, however, that while it comes 
fourth on the list, it is only fourth ; it is by no means last ! I 
am not making an exhaustive list. I do not know where I 
should stop if I undertook that. I am mentioning only a few 
of the first principles — the essentials. And in regard to this 
very question of order, I am partly at a loss to know how far 
it is safe to permit it to lay down its law in a room. I think 
almost as many rooms are spoiled by being kept in too exact 
order as by being too disorderly. There is an apparent dis- 
order which is not disorderly ; and there is an apparent order 
which is only a witness to the fact that things are never used. 
I do not know how better to state the golden mean on this 
point than to tell the story of an old temple which was once 
discovered, bearing on three of its sides this inscription : *' Be 
bold." On the fourth side the inscription : '' Be not too bold." 

I think it would be well written on three sides of a room : 
"Be orderly." On the fourth side: ** But don't be too 
orderly." 

I read once in a child's letter a paragraph somewhat like 
this: 

*' I look every day in the glass to see how my countenance 
is growing. My nurse has told me that every one creates his 
own countenance ; that God gives us our faces, but we can 
make a good or bad countenance by thinking good or bad 
thoughts, keeping a good or bad temper." 

I have often thought of this in regard to rooms. When we 
first take possession of a room, it has no especial expression, 
perhaps — at any rate, no expression peculiar to us: but day 
by day we create its countenance, and at the end of a few 
years it is sure to be a pretty good reflection of our own. 



540 HOME TOPICS. 

WINDOW-BOXES. 

WHEN winter has taken possession of the outside world, 
whirled the last leaf from the vine, seared the grasses, 
and hidden even the evergreen branches in snow, then window- 
boxes begin their reign. It is pleasant to glance from the fire 
and see them basking in the sunshine — green mossy banks, 
simulating the vanished summer. Nor need the plants be costly 
nor the boxes of expensive material. Given fresh mosses and 
leaves, a few trailing creepers, and a spike or two of flowers, 
and the effect must be charming, whether framed in enamel or 
zinc, in ebony or deal. And for those who are ambitious only 
of such effect, there are a dozen cheap and feasible methods of 
securing it. 

The box may be of tin, painted green, or of common white 
pine, stained and oiled, with a strip of molding or a few 
lichens and fir-cones tacked on by way of ornament. Or, 
prettier still, it may be turned into a rustic affair by covering 
it with narrow horizontal lengths of rough-barked wood. 
Birch boughs or laurel, or both alternating, will answer, halved 
lengthwise with the saw, and cut into sections to fit the box, 
the shelf which supports it being edged with the same. Or a 
gayly colored affair may be made with narrow strips of oil- 
cloth, finished off with a wooden molding at top and bottom, 
a set pattern being chosen, of bright, solid colors, like the tiles 
which are so much in vogue for more expensive arrangements. 
In either case, unless the window-seat is of unusual width, a 
strong pine shelf must be adjusted in the recess to support the 
box, and the edge which fronts the room must be ornamented 
or stained to match. 

The one essential of window-gardening is sun. That 
secured, the rest is easy. A south window, with a shade which 
can be raised or lowered at pleasure, is best. 

The box provided and the shelf set, begin operations by a 
bottom layer of broken charcoal. 

It is well to have the larger plants in pots, both for con- 
venience of removal and to obviate the need of box drainage, 
which is a troublesome thing in a parlor. Set the pots on top 



WINDOW-BOXES. 54I 

of the charcoal, arranging according to fancy, but keeping the 
taller plants in the middle. Free, hardy bloomers, such as 
fuchsias, tea-roses, geraniums, — scarlet, rose, and white, — 
carnations, Chinese primroses, do better in the house, as a 
general thing, than tropical ferns and begonias, which are so 
temptingly beautiful in conservatories and perish so quickly 
out of them. One or two foliage plants, also, a coleus, "' Atur- 
anthus,'' or a silver-leaved myrtle, will be pretty, and two or 
three German and English ivies. Fill in around the pots with 
light, friable soil, one-fifth sand, and smooth the top over so as. 
to cover the pots. Now, into the interstices you may tuck 
smaller plants — mignonette, lobelia, sweet alyssum, crocus and 
jonquil bulbs, ivy, geranium, moneywort. There should be a 
madeira vine or two to arch the window and twinkle across the 
upper panes. Last of all, cover the surface with mosses fresh 
from the woods, amid whose roots will be tangled all sorts of 
sweet wild things, partridge berry, tiny ferns, cranberry vine^ 
and a dozen more. Water well, and sprinkle the surface every 
day with a fine rose or a whisk-broom. Later in the season, 
as some plant grows yellow or dull, you can lift it out carefull)^ 
and insert a new one, — a hyacinth with white or purple bells, a 
tall spiked heath, a baby cactus, or Jerusalem cherry with fruit 
of coral, — and the sudden brightening of the whole, by virtue 
of the new addition, will startle you into fresh pleasure, like 
the lovely surprises of the spring. 

The water used for the plants should be tempered slightly 
when the weather is very cold. It is a good plan to keep a 
wet sponge hidden somewhere about the box. All furnace- 
warmed houses are dry, and the more water evaporated into 
the air the better. Evaporizers of unglazed clay for the regis- 
ters are of great assistance. They are made to hold a gallon, 
and will evaporate that quantity of water daily in the register of 
an ordinary furnace. '* Inspiration," and good-humor, too, are 
very apt to '' go down through that hole in the floor," as nerves 
and temper give way under the strain of dry heat, and the 
addition of four quarts of moisture daily to the air of the 
sitting-room in which you hve will be found of sensible benefit 
to your plants, your furniture, and yourself 



542 HOME TOPICS. 

A FERNERY. 

IF there be an ugly jog on the north side of the cottage, 
where, perhaps, the eaves drip and no sunHght falls, but on 
whose unsightliness a window opens, transform it into a fernery. 
On any rainy day send a man and a cart to the nearest woods, 
and let him bring down a load of ferns and brakes taken 
up with at least eight inches of earth clinging to them. It is 
better to take such as grow in the more open places, and then 
they pine less for the old shade. Have six or seven inches of 
the hard-packed soil taken out, and the ferns carefully set in 
their new home, block to block, the spaces between being filled 
with black earth, and all the roots covered with moss from the 
woods. Then for two or three days syringe them all at dusk, 
and whenever the weather is very dry remember the same 
kindness. And the pretty green things will hardly droop till 
frosts come. We have some great swaying creatures, four 
feet high when they were transplanted, weeks ago, which have 
not dropped a leaf There is a tangle of wild vines among 
them, and a group of calla lilies is in bloom on the balcony 
which the ferns border. A dining-room window opens on 
them, and to see this waving fernery through the half-closed 
blinds is to see in imagination the glory of the tropics, yet to 
feel the coolness of deep northern woods. 



FLOWERS IN WINTER, AND HOW TO MAKE 
THE MOST OF THEM. 

WE all can have flowers in summer; but flowers In winter 
are, to most of us, a rare treat, only to be indulged in 
occasionally. Yet, I think we need them more then, and 
enjoy them more than at any other time, for our northern 
winters are so long and cruel that without flowers we are in 



FLOWERS IN WINTER. 543 

danger of forgetting that there ever was a summer. A bou- 
quet never seems so precious as on one of those icy days 
when the world is so hopelessly frozen that it seems as if it 
never could bear another green thing. We touch the roses 
and the pinks with tender fingers and a feeling which we do 
not have for garden flowers — prosperous creatures, who take 
care of themselves and require none of our love and pity. 
These few sweet winter blooms are the survivors of a great 
massacre. Even now their lives are in danger, for if the 
window were to be opened ever so little, winter would slip 
treacherously through and kill them as he did their mates. 
So we pet and cherish the beautiful things, doing all we can to 
make them happy, and they reward us in their own pretty 
way by living twice as long as cut flowers in summer ever do. 

There are various recipes for keeping bouquets fresh. 
Some people stick them in moist sand; some salt the water in 
the vases, and others warm it ; others, again, use a few drops 
of ammonia. My rule is, to cool the flowers thoroughly at 
night. When the long day of furnace-heat has made the 
roses droop and their stems limp and lifeless, I clip them a 
little, and set them to float in a marble basin full of very cold 
water. In the morning they come out made over into crisp 
beauty, as fresh and blooming as if just gathered. All flowers, 
however, will not stand this water-cure. Heliotrope blackens 
and falls to pieces under it; azaleas drop from their stems, and 
mignonette soaks away its fragrance. For these I use dry, 
cold air. I wrap them in cotton wool, and set them on a shelf 
in the ice-chest ! I can almost hear you laugh, but really I 
am not joking. Flowers thus treated keep perfectly for a week 
with me, and often longer. 

Many persons who are lucky enough to have flowers do 
not at all know how to arrange them so as to produce the best 
eflect, while others seem born with a knack for doing such 
things in just the right way. Knack cannot be taught, but 
there are a few rules and principles on the subject so simple 
that even a child can understand and follow them, and if you 
will keep them in mind when you have flowers to arrange, I 



544 HOME TOPICS. 

think you will find them helpful. Just as flowers are the most 
beautiful decoration which any house can have, so the proper 
management of them is one of the gracefulest of arts, and 
everything which makes home prettier and more attractive is 
worth study and pains, so I will tell you what these rules are, 
in the hope that you will use and apply them yourselves. 

First. The color of the vase to be used is of importance. 
Gaudy reds and blues should never be chosen, for they conflict 
with the delicate hues of the flowers. Bronze or black vases, 
dark green, pure white, or silver^ always produce a good effect, 
and so does a straw basket, while clear glass, which shows the 
graceful clasping of the stems, is perhaps prettiest of all. 

Second. The shape of the vase is also to be thought of. 
For the middle of a dinner-table, a round bowl is always 
appropriate, or a tall vase with a saucer-shaped base. Or, if 
the center of the table is otherwise occupied, a large conch 
shell, or shell-shaped dish, may be swung from the chandeher 
above, and with plenty of vines and feathering green, made to 
look very pretty. Delicate flowers, such as lilies of the valley 
and sweet-peas, should be placed by themselves in slender, 
tapering glasses; violets should nestle their fragrant purple in 
some tiny cup, and pansies be set in groups, with no gayer 
flowers to contradict their soft velvet hues; and — this is a hint 
for summer — few things are prettier than balsam-blossoms, or 
double variegated hollyhocks, massed on a flat plate, with a 
fringe of green to hide the edge. No leaves should be inter- 
spersed with these ; the plate will look like a solid mosaic 
of splendid color. 

Third. Stijfness and crowding are the two things to be 
specially avoided in arranging flowers. What can be uglier 
than the great tasteless bunches into which the ordinary florist 
ties his wares, or what more extravagant? A skillful person 
will untie one of these, and, adding green leaves, make the 
same flowers into half a dozen bouquets, each more effective 
than the original. Flowers should be grouped as they grow, 
with a cloud of light foliage in and about them to set off" their 
forms and colors. Don't forget this. 



FLOWERS IN WINTER. 545 

Fourth. It is- better, as a general rule, not to put more than 
one or two sorts of flowers into the same vase. A great bush 
with roses, and camellias, and carnations, and feverfew, and 
geraniums growing on it all at "once would be a frightful thing 
to behold; just so a monstrous bouquet made up of all these 
flowers is meaningless and ugly. Certain flowers, such as 
heliotrope, mignonette, and myrtle, mix well with everything; 
but usually it is better to group flowers with their kind — roses 
in one glass, geraniums in another, and not try to make them 
agree in companies. 

Fifth. When you do mix flowers, be careful not to put 
colors which clash side by side. Scarlets and pinks spoil each 
other : so do blues and purples, and yellows and mauves. If 
your vase or dish is a very large one, to hold a great number 
of flowers, it is a good plan to divide it into thirds or quarters, 
making each division perfectly harmonious within itself, and 
then blend the whole with lines of green and white, and soft 
neutral tint. Every group of mixed flowers requires one little 
touch of yellow to make it vivid; but this must be skillfully 
applied. It is good practice to experiment with this effect. 
For instance, arrange a group of maroon, scarlet, and white 
geraniums with green leaves, and add a single blossom of gold- 
colored calceolaria ; you will see at once that the whole bou- 
quet seems to flash out and become more brilliant. 

Lastly. Love your flowers. By some subtle sense the dear 
things always detect their friends, and for them they will live 
longer and bloom more freely than they ever will for a stran- 
ger. And I can tell you, girls, the sympathy of a flower is 
worth winning, as you will find out when you grow older, and 
reahze that there are such things as dull days, which need 
cheering and comforting. 



35 



546 HOME TOPICS. 

WIND O IV- GA RDENING. 

VERY few city housekeepers have found themselves pos- 
sessed of a dozen square feet of back-yard, or a window- 
opening to the south, who have not tried gardening in one 
or both, usually with most impotent conclusions. They had 
some paradisaical vision before them of the beds of sweetness 
and color, the dusky alleys and nests of greenery, about some 
friend's country-seat. They attempted the same in miniature, 
only to find their tiny grass-plot dusty and dock-grown, their 
vines barren stems, their hardy chmbers, '* warranted to run up 
twenty feet the first season," stopping short to die in as many 
inches. This in spite of all scientific appliance, manuring, 
mulching, and leaf-mold, or untiring practice with patent syr- 
inges or scissors. The very flowers which creep from one 
village garden to another, bold invaders to be drawn out with 
hoe and rake, dwindle into pale, leafless stalks in the artistic 
jardiniere, and will not be coaxed into life by tenderest care. 
The first mistake made by our amateur city gardener is to 
ignore the poisonous air in which she essays to rear her frail 
charges. No tender or half-hardy plant will survive two weeks' 
confinement in rooms heated by furnaces and lighted by gas. 
If there be an open fire-place in the house, it would be wise to 
keep this class of plants solely in this apartment. If there be 
no open fire-place, we earnestly advise our householder to pur- 
chase one. It will cost her less than a good engraving, and 
will not only fill the room with pictures, but help the little ones 
to rosy cheeks. If we could sketch for her a certain cozy sit- 
ting-room, it would convert her more surely than any argu- 
ment. There is a big fire in the recesses of a quaint-carved 
wooden fire-place ; bear-skins, on which the dog and boys 
romp or sleep together; and glass-doors open into a little 
chamber filled with ferns, ivy, and all wood-growths. The air 
of this chamber is warmed from the inner room ; the outer 
walls, of course, are glass. On a winter's day, there are 
gHmpses, through the mosses and vines, of the snow outside. 
A woman who cannot afford a Meissonier can compass this. 



don't give up the garden ! 547 

and so bring a great pleasure and brightness into her children's 
memory of home. 

If the open fire, however, be unattainable, she must limit 
her attempt at gardening to the hardiest of plants. Ivy — that 
is, the English varieties — will defy dry heat and gas, if the 
leaves are frequently washed ; while the begonias flourish in 
the poison with a Borgian delight. 

Very pretty effects may be produced, too, at the cost of a 
few cents, by planting verbenas, morning-glories, cobea scan- 
dens, and the maurandias in baskets or flower-pots, which can 
be concealed behind statuary or bronzes. They will grow lux- 
uriantly, with blossoms which are miniatures of those which 
they yield in summer. The best fertilizer which can be applied 
to them, or to any other house-plants, is that afforded by the 
tea-pot. The cold tea-grounds which the Irish throw on the 
hearth as an offering to the lares, if poured as a libation to 
these household fairies, will produce a miracle of beauty and 
perfume. 



DON'T GIVE UP THE GARDEN! 

IF, as the illustrious Verulam asserts, a garden be '' the 
greatest refreshment to the spirits of man," one would nat- 
urally conclude that the refreshment ought to be available 
when most needed — namely, in the fierce midsummer heats. 
But how few gardens do we find in full beauty in July and 
August ! Most people give up their gardens about this time ; 
others hold on pretty well until the first light frosts, when they 
seem to think that all is over, and retire from the field. I have 
a garden in my mind's eye that belongs to one of these Faint- 
hearts ; it was trim and gay in April, gorgeous in June ; but 
toward the middle of July there was a perceptible falling-off. 
Flowers were allowed to go to seed, the grass was not cut often 
enough, and weeds began to show their heads; and in October, 



548 HOME TOPICS. 

if I had not watched the rise and fall of this floral empire, I 
should not have suspected that there had been even an attempt 
at floriculture in the vicinity. Less than a mile from this 
ruined Eden lies a garden that is attractive for nine months in 
the year. This is the beloved domain of a born gardener — an 
Eve, who smilingly says, pointing to her floral treasures, '' I have 
got back to Paradise." When asked the secret of her success, 
she replied : '' I work a little in my garden every day. Flow- 
ers are like children — to thrive, they must have constant and 
loving care." I went to see my Eve one day last fall, after the 
frost had set in. I found her in the garden, shears in hand, 
clipping off frosted flowers ; here and there a tender plant had 
been killed, but most of the flowers looked as bright as in 
June. Many flowers will bear a good deal of frost, and if the 
injured ones are removed, the garden may be kept presentable 
quite into the edge of winter — especially if there be a goodly 
collection of chrysanthemums, and a reserve of pansies in the 
cold-frame or seed-bed. Pansies for late blooming should be 
sown in June, and the flowering retarded by removing the 
buds ; then they will burst forth with wonderful beauty in the 
cool autumn weather, and will endure considerable frost ; 
though it is best to protect them at night. After even these 
hardy blooms have succumbed, much may be done to facilitate 
spring work. New beds should always be laid out in the fall, 
especially where sod is to be moved, for, if it is turned under, 
it will rot during the winter, and so make the best of flower- 
food. Then the hardy bulbs must not be forgotten. Tulips 
should be more generally planted than they are ; the price 
(fifty cents per dozen for mixed varieties) brings them within 
the reach of all. A neighbor last fall was induced by my rep- 
resentations to invest a small sum in Parrot tulips, and this 
spring her little garden-plot was the show-place of the coun- 
try-side. A fine Parrot tulip, to him who sees it for the first 
time, must indeed be a revelation. Many kinds of annuals do 
best when sown in the fall. Lists of seeds for fall sowing may 
be found in the floral catalogues, but I have never seen either 
petunias or verbenas in these lists ; yet both will seed them- 



DON T GIVE UP THE GARDEN ! 549 

selves, and all flowers that do this may be safely planted in the 
fall. My verbenas last year were all from self-sown seed, and 
they were never more varied and beautiful. There was a good 
assortment of the verbena colors, with fine, large trusses of 
bloom., and they were delightfully fragrant besides. They are 
not constant, however, and new seed should be procured 
frequently from some reliable florist, and this should be started 
in the hot-bed, for florists' seed is often several years old, and 
will not always germinate readily. It is a good plan to have 
verbenas succeed hardy bulbs ; treated in this way they are 
very little trouble, and there is no hurry about getting them 
into bloom, if one has even a small collection of good peren- 
nials. They come along in time to take the place of the sweet- 
williams, columbines, pinks, lilies, and June roses. Yonder in 
the grass-plot are three circular beds that have sown them- 
selves for several years in succession. One is a bed of Drum- 
mond phlox ; one contains petunias, and the other verbenas. 
They are always covered in the fall with their own growths, 
and sometimes leaves are added. Early in the spring the cov- 
ering is removed, and a dressing of leaf-mold from the woods 
is applied ; then they are protected by light brush and left to 
sun and shower. 

When the seedlings come up they will generally require 
thinning and a little arrangement, as they will not be always 
evenly distributed over the beds. Borders of white candytuft 
are very pretty for beds set in the green grass ; but it must not 
be sown too soon, as it blooms early and does not last long. 
These beds require renovating once in three or four years. I 
dug up one of mine this spring, and the excavation we made 
was so considerable that it attracted general observation. 
Opinions were divided on the subject. One neighbor feel- 
ingly inquired if we were digging a grave. Some thought 
we must be going to build a cave or an ice-house ; another 
suggested a grasshopper-trap ; but that it was nothing but a 
posy-bed nobody would believe. 



550 HOME TOPICS. 

FALL WORK IN THE ROSE-GARDEN. 

THE fall months afford a very favorable season for starting 
new plantations of roses. 

All of the improved varieties are apt to be covered with a 
fresh and profuse bloom in September or later, and after the 
flowers drop, the buds will be found in the state best adapted 
for putting forth new shoots, and the process of rooting will 
also take place readily if slips are now cut from the parent 
stem, and set out and properly cared for in suitable soil. 

If it is desired to make the attempt on a large scale, select 
a spot in your garden close to a north wall, or, at least, so situ- 
ated as to be protected in some way against the blasts of the 
north wind. Dig out the ground, if of hard clay, to the depth 
of one foot, making a trench about one yard long, and filling 
it half up with rich manure ; then put in a layer of good gar- 
den-loam, and on top of that at least three inches of clear sand. 
Set in your slips with their lower ends slanting from the north, 
and be sure to fix them firmly in the sand. Let the slips be 
placed about four inches apart. They will need no protection 
from sunshine, unless the weather is exceptionally hot. But 
when the winter approaches, cover them with boughs of ever- 
green, or with a slight structure of a few planks. Leave them 
undisturbed till the weather has become settled in spring, when 
many of them will be found to have taken root. Prepare the 
ground into which they are to be transplanted just as for 
tomato-plants, and do not let the distance between them be 
less than three feet. We find that roses grown in this way, at 
home, make much more vigorous, hardy plants than those 
forced by the florists in hot-beds ; the experiment having been 
tried of raising them side by side, it was found that in one year 
those grown at home had gained largely upon those purchased 
abroad. 

Roses may also be propagated from the slip by rooting 
them in water, and then transferring them to small pots, where 
they can remain until large enough to take their permanent 
places upon the lawn or in the flower-garden. The water 



ROSES. 551 

should be put in black or dark-green bottles, and a little 
raw cotton wrapped around the slip. The water need not be 
changed except occasionally, but the bottles must always be 
kept filled up to the neck. 



ROSES. 



'*TS there," asks Mr. Tennyson, "any moral hid within the 
J- bosom of a rose ?" 

We cannot say. Certain it is that something else lurks 
there; something at once less obvious and more deadly; 
something which defies inquest — almost defies remedy; and 
the name of that something is SLUGS. 

From beginning to end of summer, Nature takes apparent 
pleasure in teasing and tantalizing us. Her fairest things she 
abandons to her foulest. Each month brings its destroyer — 
the currant-worm with the currants, the measure-worm with 
the elm foliage — and so on, until the latest caterpillar chews a 
horrible path through every leaf spared by earlier hosts, spins 
its cocoon, and lies down to die. 

The gladiolus has its foe — a mailed creature fearful to 
encounter. Tiny emerald beetles skip over the edges of the 
geraniums. Red spiders assemble from Heaven knows where, 
and spin and devastate. Aphides in countless hosts appear as 
from the atmosphere, and take possession. '' Little things on 
Httle wings," with stings far from little, puncture the grape- 
leaves and gall the fuchsias. But most of all, the roses — 
sweetest and fairest sisterhood — seem marked for destruction. 

Hardly have their soft, crimson-tufted buds unrolled than 
the ravage begins. You bend lovingly over your pet '' Giant 
of Bautes " or " General Jacque Moneau," and start aghast. 
Why are the leaves twisted thus strangely over the coming 
buds, and cemented together as by a wiry glue ? The 
experienced know well the cause, and applying a finger and 



552 HOME TOPICS. 

thumb artistically, give a pinch. Aha ! a black and green 
head wriggles into view. He is there, "Thalabathe Destroyer" 
— that slug whom, in defiance of Mr. Warner, we pronounce 
the "saddest" of the year. 

Talk of promptitude — he is always before time. Early 
bird must it be indeed who picks up that worm ! Before human 
vision detects the delicate unfolding bud, he has gorged him- 
self with essence of bloom, and the bud is an empty shell. 
We pinch and pinch with stern determination, regardless of 
cold chills down our spines — and still the creeping creature 
defies us, and the harvest of beauty is snatched from our grasp. 

Is there, then, no remedy ? Yes. Let others prate of to- 
bacco washes and whale-oil soap. Our spell is couched in two 
magic words. They are — ''white hellebore." 

This blessed dust — worth its weight in gold — may be had 
at moderate price at any chemist's. Salute it. It is not the 
rose — but it comes near to being so, for it saves the rose. 

Dissolved in water (proportion, a half-pound to a half- 
barrel), and applied with a syringe, it coats each leaf with 
a faint gray sediment. Over this, while wet, a little dry 
powder should be dredged. The slug, taking, as is his wont, 
an early constitutional on top of the leaves, absorbs this re- 
freshing aliment, and is found at nine P. M. swollen, black, and 
dead as Pharaoh. Very early risers may even enjoy the 
delight of applying the dose directly to the spine of the 
invader, and watching the effect ! 

A i^^N days — and our heel is on the neck of the enemy. 
And then, ah ! then, how the fresh leaves laugh and twinkle ! 
how the cups of cream and fire and snow unfold, and with 
what wafts of sweetness do they recompense the hand that 
brought deliverance ! Conquerors and conquered, we bow 
before the spell of beauty, and inscribe upon our oriflambs 
(''which," as the Bab Ballad remarks, "is pretty, though I 
don't know what it means ") the name of the herb which 
tempted fair Juliet to her death, but to our rescued favorites 
has been a word of healing. 

Remember, white hellebore. 



A PLANT- STAND. 553 

A PLANT-STAND. 

THE lack of a desirable place to keep plants often prevents 
the pleasure of raising them. They must have light, and 
air, and sunshine, and it is not always convenient to devote the 
brightest windows to their occupancy. If kept on the ledges, 
they are in danger of being chilled on a frosty night ; and it is 
a tax to be compelled to move the heavy pots every time the 
thermometer drops. A flower-stand of some sort, that can be 
readily moved from window to window is, therefore, a neces- 
sity. The old-fashioned wooden ones are clumsy, heavy, and 
take up too much room. The modern wire frames are pretty 
and light ; but one of moderate size costs ten or twelve dollars, 
which is a great deal to put in the stand when we wish to put 
it in the flowers. 

We saw something, the other day, that seemed to serve 
both economy and convenience. A box three feet long, a foot 
and a half wide across the bottom, and eighteen inches deep, is 
made of common pine. The sides flare outward, so that, at 
the top, they measure six or eight inches more, from edge to 
edge, than at the bottom. This box stands on four legs with 
casters, and under the bottom of the box a piece of wood, fan- 
cifully cut on the edge (a sort of pine valance), holds the legs 
firmly and symmetrically together. The top of the box is 
nearly even with the window-sill, and when the whole is con- 
structed, it may either be painted in colors, or stained dark- 
brown, to match the furniture wood. The inside of the box is 
better preserved from decay if lined Avith zinc or tin ; but it 
will last one, possibly two, seasons, without any lining at all. 
Over the bottom is spread a three-inch layer of bits of broken 
flower-pots, and on this is set a double row of pots, or as many 
as will stand evenly on the surface. Then a thick layer of 
sand is poured over the broken pieces, and the rest of the space 
filled up with earth till it is even with the top of the flower- 
pots. In the bed thus formed, bulbs and slips are planted 
between the pots, and vines are started at the corners. When 
the latter are well under way, wires on which the vines twist are 



554 HOME TOPICS. 

fastened diagonally from corner to corner, forming a beautiful 
green arch over what seems to be a bed taken bodily from the 
garden. Sometimes a tiny hanging-basket, or an ivy growing 
in water, is hung from where the wires cross in the arch, but, 
even without it, there is no appearance of bareness. A car- 
penter will make the box for two dollars and a half, and the 
rest, painting and all, can readily be done at home. 



w 



A MINIATURE FERNERY. 

^IlL were out in the woods for a day's pleasuring — riding 
along neglected old roads, leading to nowhere in partic- 
ular ; stopping in a shady glen, beside a cool, dark brook, to 
eat our hearty lunch, and wandering about in search of what- 
ever we could find. Our search was amply rewarded, for we 
had soon loaded ourselves with woodland treasures in the shape 
of moss, grasses, delicate vines, tiny two-leaved maples and 
baby evergreens, clusters of ferns, which we dug up with the 
roots and some of the soil adhering to them; and long sprays 
of ground-pine, and glossy '' squaw- vine," with its bright 
crimson berries. We brought home our trophies in triumph, 
and proceeded to make a ''fernery," after our own fashion. 
Taking a large platter, we arranged the ferns carefully on it, 
filling in with the green moss and graceful, drooping grasses, 
which also had roots (as, indeed, had everything we brought), 
and trailing the vines over all ; then we placed it on a little 
stand, which was twined with the evergreen ground-pine, and 
had a lovely '' woodsy " affair at no cost but the pleasure of 
gathering and arranging. We watered the platter every day, 
and, after the lapse of several weeks, the ferns and all are as 
fresh and healthy as when first gathered, and every day some 
new wonder unfolds itself; new ferns are coming up out of the 
mold ; little wood violets are growing, and the pipsissewa has 
had a blossom that rivals the trailing arbutus in delicacy and 
sweetness, while the bright berries glow in the green mosses. 



BRING FLOWERS. 555 

BRING FLOWERS. 

OF course they will be growing in the gardens all summer, 
and (if we have a garden) we can go there and enjoy 
them. But this is not enough. We cannot be all the time in 
the garden, and we ought to have flowers in the house — espe- 
cially in summer-time, for then they are not only so fresh and 
beautiful, but so free. We can then have flowers on our tables 
at every meal, and yet on their account we need not have one 
pound less of beefsteak, or stint ourselves of a single lump of 
sugar. But in winter we cannot always be so sure about this 
— particularly if we feel we need a good many flowers, and 
have to go to the florist's for them. 

As to what flowers it is best to bring into the house and 
what to do with them after we have them there, we have all 
heard a great deal, and yet something useful may yet be said ; 
and even if some of us have heard it before, it will do no harm 
— especially if we have forgotten it. 

There are in every house a great many places where flowers 
will look well, but nowhere will they look better than on the 
table at meal-time. If we have more flowers than we need for 
that purpose we can put them all around — everywhere. 

And it is easy enough to find something to put them in. 
If vases are not available, a bowl, a plate, a flat dish, or some- 
thing of the kind, will do. If it is not pretty, cover it up with 
flowers and leaves. Small ivy-leaves, geranium-leaves, wood- 
mosses, and even parsley, and the graceful foliage of the com- 
mon garden carrot, will so cover and adorn the edges and rim 
of a common soup-plate, that it might as well be a jardiniere 
of Wedgwood ware, or a vase of Sevres porcelain, for all we 
can see of it. 

In regard to the flowers, we should be more particular. It 
will not do to jumble flowers together any way, without regard 
to form or color, and then expect a beautiful result. Nature 
never does anything of the kind herself, and her flowers are 
not intended for such bungling processes. There is scarcely a 
flower or leaf in the world that cannot be made more beautiful 



556 HOME TOPICS. 

by being placed by some other flower or leaf. It must be 
remembered that a much more beautiful effect is often pro- 
duced by a few flowers than by a great mass of them. For 
instance : for a bouquet in a flat dish, the flowers of the pale- 
blue passion-flower will blend perfectly with an outer wreath of 
the palest pink roses, and any deep green foliage will set them off 
advantageously. If a finger-glass is placed in the middle of the 
dish, and a group of flowers arranged in a drooping bouquet 
over the passion-flowers, the effect is quite unique and lovely. 

Scarlet and white geraniums, grouped with mignonette 
and their own leaves, are exceedingly effective, and the same 
may be said of China roses mingled with white and crimson 
carnations, with sprigs of heliotrope dotted hither and thither. 
Bright pink roses half-blown, and wreathed among lilies of 
the valley partly shrouded under the cool green of their own 
leaves, make a lovely combination. 

The chief thing to attend to, in arranging such dishes of 
flow^ers, is to take the shades of colors that suit each other, and 
not mix purple and blue, scarlet and crimson. 

As a general rule, all flowers of thin texture, and particu- 
larly those which combine with it a delicate color, are, if 
gathered, not only a loss to the garden-bed, but of little avail 
for house use. They are tempting to gather, because their 
fragile, pale colors look so pretty in the hand and bear 
close inspection, but they will not add anything to your vase 
or bouquet ; for being thin and lacking in brilliancy of color, if 
they do not close by night-fall they will probably fall from the 
stalk and spoil your arrangement. 

For the center of an upright vase of flowers, some grand 
flower like a cactus, a Japan lily, or a water-lily should be 
used, or a good cluster of carnations or pelargoniums will 
show well in a central position, with five or six carnations of 
various colors around it. If there is much scarlet in the vase, a 
few yellow-tinged flowers like the sprays of yellow calceolaria 
will show to advantage. Often a few clusters of one kind of 
flower, such as geraniums, with only their own leaves as a 
groundwork, will be exceedingly lovely. 



PRACTICAL FLORICULTURE. 557 

White, pink, and crimson roses with their own leaves are 
extremely beautiful if arranged in one vase ; for the great 
secret in these arrangements is only to seek to fitly display 
a pretty spray of flowers and foliage, not merely to fill a vase. 

In the country, where fern-leaves abound, there are but 
few flowers needed to make very lovely bouquets ; for if the 
ferns are lightly grouped together with only a few little flowers 
they form a more attractive group than they would if crowded 
into a vase. 

Delicate, small flowers mingle better with the fronds of 
ferns than the larger and coarser flowers. A vase filled with 
ivy branches and only a few clusters of scarlet geraniums is 
really exquisite. Verbenas, too, look much prettier if arranged 
in vases by themselves than if mingled with a variety of 
flowers. 

This style of arrangement may be objected to because one 
cannot always spare many flowers of any one kind, excepting 
verbenas and those that grow en masse ; but yet only a few 
flowers are required to make an effective vase, and if there are 
several vases to fill, the flowers will go much farther if divided 
or grouped in this way ; each vase could take one shade of 
color, such as pink, scarlet, crimson, lilac, etc. 



PRACTICAL FLORICULTURE. 

I^HE cultivation of plants for ornamental purposes, both for 
- greenhouse and grounds, has made rapid progress during 
the past twenty years. It is estimated that there are upward 
of six hundred commercial florists' establishments within a 
radius of ten miles from the City Hall, New York, and that 
probably ten million dollars are invested in their lands, struct- 
ures, and stock ; and when it is known that the demand for 
horticulture in New York is hardly the average of that of other 



558 HOME TOPICS. 

cities of the Union, it will be seen that the business is an im- 
portant industry. Formerly the practical work was entirely in 
the hands of European gardeners, but for the past fifteen or 
sixteen years many of our large floral establishments have been 
employing young Americans as assistants, taking only such as 
are qualified by education and intelligence to grasp the more 
intricate and scientific details of the business. The results 
from this are already shown in the fact that the American sys- 
tem of propagation and culture is perhaps unequaled in the 
world ; and no better evidence can be given of the truth of 
this assertion than the fact — which any one may verify by a 
comparison of price-lists — that plants, on an average, are sold 
at one-third less here than in England, while our rates paid for 
labor are at least one-half higher. It may be interesting to 
give briefly in detail some of the leading operations of the 
business, beginning with propagation by seeds. 

Whenever a plant can be increased by seeds, that plan is 
adopted in preference to cuttings, or any other method, not 
only because more vigorous plants are thus obtained, but 
because this method is simpler, cheaper, and quicker, where 
large quantities are wanted ; and to the amateur in floriculture, 
or the florist living in sections of the country where plants 
could not conveniently be sent, seeds afibrd means of procur- 
ing varieties that it would be next to impossible to get in any 
other way. If the following plan is strictly adhered to, the 
most delicate plants can be raised from seeds in a common 
sitting-room or hot-bed just as well as in a fully appointed 
greenhouse : For the bed an ordinary sized soap-box may be 
used, cutting it into sections, and making these into boxes two 
inches deep, leaving the seams at the bottom wide enough to 
allow the water to pass ofl" quickly. These shallow boxes 
should be filled with finely sifted soil, level with the top; and 
this soil should be pressed down with a board, making it as 
smooth and level as possible; on this surface the seeds should 
be sown and pressed gently down with the board, so as to 
sink them into the soil. Then dry sphagmim moss, cocoa-nut 
fiber, leaf-mold, or any light material, should be rubbed 



PRACTICAL FLORICULTURE. 559 

through a mosquito-wire, and sifted on the seeds just enough 
to cover them. Either of these substances is better to cover 
seeds with than ordinary soil; owing to their sponge-Hke char- 
acter, the proper degree of moisture is obtained, while their 
lightness offers but little resistance to the feeble germ. After 
covering, a gentle watering should be given with a fine-rose 
watering-pot; and if the seeds are placed in a temperature 
averaging sixty degrees, the young seedlings will begin to 
show themselves breaking through the covering in from six to 
twenty days, according to the nature of the plant. But in 
quite a number of species of plants there is a tendency to 
*' damp off," as it is called, after germination; this is caused 
by a species of mildew that finds a congenial condition among 
the tender seedling plants which come up thickly huddled 
together. To avert this, as soon as the seedlings have shown 
the seed-leaf to be fully developed, and before the first rough 
or true leaf has formed, the tiny plants should be pricked off 
into boxes filled with soil of the same depth and dimensions 
as those used for the seeds. The seedlings should be planted 
with great care with a small dibber, about the size of a pencil, 
and pointed. After planting they should be gently watered, 
and shaded with paper for a few days until they take root. 

Propagating by cuttings is always an interesting operation ; 
and, to many, plants grown from slips of their own raising 
have a value far greater than if purchased when fully devel- 
oped. Nearly all European writers on this subject have so 
befogged it with technical nonsense that few not regular 
professional florists have ever attempted it, unless on some of 
the commonest kinds of plants. It is now, however, consid- 
ered one of our simplest operations, and any one with ordinary 
intelligence can perform it successfully if the following brief 
instructions are strictly followed: When plants are wanted in 
large quantities, elevate a bench above the flue or hot-water 
pipes to within a foot or so of a glass at the front, and on this 
bench place three or four inches of any ordinary ckan sand. 
This bench should be boarded down in front, to confine the 
heat from the flue or pipes under it, so as to give what is 



56o HOME TOPICS. 

called "bottom heat." The sand on the bench so formed, 
during the winter season, when the greenhouse is fired, will 
indicate a temperature of sixty- five to seventy degrees, while 
the atmosphere of the greenhouse should be ten degrees less. 
Now if the cuttings or slips are in the right condition, and are 
inserted an inch or so in the sand, and freely watered, and 
shaded from the sun from nine or ten A. M. to three or four 
P. M., ninety-nine out of every hundred will take root in from 
ten to twenty days. The cutting or slip, however, must be in 
the right condition ; this can be ascertained by a very simple 
test: if on bending the cutting or slip it snaps off short, it is 
all right for planting; but if it bends without breaking it is too 
old, and in this state it roots much more slowly and feebly. 

There is another method of propagating by slips, and one 
which can be used by any one, with or without a greenhouse. 
It is known as the " saucer system." A saucer or plate should 
be filled with an inch or so of sand ; then the slips, prepared 
in the usual manner, should be inserted in the sand about close 
enough to touch each other. The sand should then be watered 
to bring it to the condition of mud. Thus filled, the saucer is 
placed in a hot-bed, on the shelf of the greenhouse, or in a 
window exposed to the sun in the dwelling-house — in each 
case fully exposed to the sun, and never shaded. But one 
condition is essential to success : until the cuttings become 
rooted the sand must be kept continually saturated with water, 
and always in a condition of mud. Care must be taken in 
watering to do it gently, so as not to throw down the cutting, 
as it is essential that the cut part remain always in the mud. 
If the temperature of the room or greenhouse averages from 
sixty-five to eighty-five degrees, and if the cuttings were in 
the proper condition, success is certain, and finely rooted slips 
may be expected in from ten to twenty days from the time 
they were put in the saucers. A higher temperature may be 
maintained by the saucer system of propagating than by the 
other, as the slips are in reality placed in water, and will not 
wilt, provided the nuicl is not allowed to dry up. The popular 
idea that it is necessary to cut a slip at a joint or an e}'c is an 




LAYERING IN THE AIR, AND LAYERING IN THE SOIL, 



PRACTICAL FLORICULTURE. 56 1 

error ; it makes no difference whatever in the formation of roots, 
unless in such plants as have tuberous roots, like the dahlia, 
where a joint or eye is necessary, that the roots may develop 
eyes the next season. 

Propagation of plants by leaves is another method em- 
ployed, and one that is a never-ceasing source of wonder. 
When we examine a leaf of Begonia rex^ chased and shaded 
like frosted or burnished silver, nothing indicates that there is 
anything about it any more than about any other leaf — that it 
has the germs of a score of lives dotted all over its beautiful 
surface. Yet we know that if one of these leaves, the veins 
being first cut across, is thrown down in any moist place, at a 
temperature of seventy or eighty degrees, in a month its sur- 
face becomes dotted all over with tiny plants, fac-similes, so to 
speak, of the "mother" leaf, which gives up her life for her 
offspring. Bryophyllmn calycinum is another singular plant, 
which emits young plants from the serrated edge of the leaf 
Single leaves, three by six inches in size, sometimes have as 
many as thirty young plants attached. The leaves of this 
plant are dropped on the ground while growing in the open air, 
and every one, large or small, at once develops its tiny progeny 
from the margins of the leaves ; or, if a leaf is taken off the 
plant and pinned against a moist wall, in a few weeks young 
plants are formed. Another family of plants, known as Pepe- 
romia^ develop plants from the foot-stalk. 

Propagation of plants by layering is another method often 
practiced by amateurs who require only a few plants, but is 
now very little used by the professional florist. The illustra- 
tion shows the manner of cutting and pegging down in the soil 
the shoot of a rose-bush, so as to obtain a layered plant. The 
plant in the flower-pot is a variegated-leaved geranium, with 
some of the shoots cut so as to hang only by a portion of the 
bark. This plan of propagating is what is termed ** layering 
in the air," and I believe I was the first to originate it, about 
twelve years ago. This method has been found to be very 
useful in increasing variegated-leaved plants of such kinds as 
are liable to rot off when put in as ordinary slips or cuttings. 

36 



562 HOME TOPICS. 

After being allowed to hang on the plant for ten or twelve 
days, the wound heals over, and, if the atmosphere is moist, 
roots will be emitted as the slip hangs on the plant ; but, even 
if not, the healing over, or ''callus," as it is technically termed, 
is the condition preparatory to rooting ; and when these slips 
are detached and potted, nearly every slip will quickly form a 
rooted plant. Besides, it is a great advantage to the health of 
the old plant on which the slips have been " layered " not to 
detach them at once, as all propagators of plants know that, 
when many slips are taken off the plant at once, it lessens its 
vigor to such a degree as often to destroy it. "Layering in 
the air," however, is not only more certain in rooting the slips, 
but does little or no injury to the mother- plant. 

The potting of plants is first begun by taking the rooted 
slips or cuttings from the cutting-bench or saucer, or the young 
seedlings from the boxes, and ''potting" or planting them (in 
finely sifted soil) in small flower-pots, usually two inches wide 
and deep. After the slips have been thus potted in small pots, 
they should be freely watered and shaded for two or three 
days, until the roots begin to strike into the soil. According 
to the nature of the plant and the temperature which it is 
growing in, the young plants, in from four to eight weeks, will 
have matted the " ball " of earth on the outside, so that it 
shows a net- work of roots when knocked out of the pot. It is 
then in the condition to be placed in a larger flower-pot, or to 
be "shifted," as it is technically called. If the slip has been in 
a pot two inches in diameter — and at first it should never be 
placed in one much larger — it should be shifted into one three 
inches in diameter; if in a three-inch, to a four-inch, and so on 
until the size runs to six inches in diameter, when a somewhat 
larger shift may be given; if the pot is too large the plants will 
get water-logged. In the operation of shifting into the smaller 
sizes, a layer of swamp moss (Sphagnum), from half an inch to 
two inches in thickness, in proportion to size, should first be 
placed in the pot ; over this a layer of soil should be placed, in 
quantity sufficient to raise the "ball " of the plant to be shifted 
to the proper height — say from half an inch to an inch below 



PRACTICAL FLORICULTURE. 563 

the level of the rim of the flower-pot ; then, in the space left 
between the roots of the plant to be shifted and the side of the 
flower-pot, the soil should be packed moderately firm. Crocks 
or drainage, other than the sphagnum^ in flower-pots is not 
necessary except the larger sizes — say six or seven inches in 
diameter and upward ; in these, in plants impatient of water at 
the roots, such as roses that are being grown for flowers in 
winter, a layer of an inch or so of broken charcoal or broken 
pots should be placed in the bottom of the pots, and over this 
a layer of sphagitum. But there is another matter of far more 
importance for drainage than the drainage of the flower-pot, 
and which is almost always lost sight of, namely, to have the 
plants placed on some rough material on the shelf or bench, 
such as gravel or cinders — anything, in fact, which, when the 
plants are placed on it, will allow the water to pass freely off, 
and at the same time admit air under the flower-pot. In cases 
where this would not be practicable — with very large pots, as 
when plants are grown in rooms in the dwelling-house — chips 
of wood, a quarter of an inch or so in thickness, placed under 
the flower-pot, would answer the same purpose. This means 
of draining and admission of air to the roots is, of course, 
much more of a necessity during winter than summer, as, 
particularly in the greenhouse, the air is often surcharged 
with moisture, while in summer there is usually too dry an 
atmosphere. 

Plants are shipped by mail and express mainly, and the 
methods of packing are now so complete that, though the most 
tender plants are sent to every State and Territory in the 
Union, often being eight days in transit, it is rare that they fail 
to arrive in good condition. To any place where they can be 
sent by express they should never be mailed ; for not only are 
the plants always smaller that can be sent by post, but by com- 
pressing them into the limits of a mail package they are 
more or less crushed, and rarely arrive in as good order. 

There is no flower- market in New York similar to that of 
the flower-market in Covent Garden, London. The plants 
sold as market plants are mixed up with other products, sold 



564 HOME TOPICS. 

on street corners, in stores, from wagons, peddled in baskets, 
and in every other conceivable way, to the great disadvantage 
of the buyer, who in this way has no chance to select a variety 
from any one place. The flower-market of Covent Garden is 
one of the great attractions of London, and there is no reason 
why such a market in New York would not be equally 
successful. 

One modern style of flower-garden decoration is what is 
termed "ribbon-line " planting, or "massing in colors," which 
is found to be far more strikingly effective than that of the 
mixed border of twenty years ago, the materials being plants 
with contrasting colors of leaves — yellow, scarlet, white, car- 
mine, bronze, crimson, etc. It is not unusual in some of the 
public parks, in the cities before named, to have ten thousand 
of such plants planted in one bed. Another style of this mode 
of planting is what is known as the " carpet pattern," or 
** mosaic system," which is done by using low, compact- grow- 
ing, succulent plants, such as the different species of Echeveria, 
Sedum, Sempervivum, etc., from which the different shades of 
color are obtained, so as to get by the use of living plants an 
effect similar to carpet or mosaic work ; and as the plants used 
grow only a few inches high, and are kept at a uniform height, 
the effect of such planting, framed in a green lawn,, is very 
striking. 




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